#this was getting. quite long. so i stopped
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Angel || LN4
Summary: Kingsday gets a little wild, in honour of Lando’s nose.
Warnings: alcohol, injuries, blood
WC: 1.7k
Lando wasn’t drunk, but he was by no means sober either. Everyone had warned him the Kingsday event was a marathon not a sprint so he was taking it slow, sipping his rum and coke out of the orange paper cup while the river boat cruised its course.
By midafternoon it was another story completely.
Martin had taken a break and let a playlist continue the party without him on the deck while he went in search of Lando. The British driver had reached the point of being tipsy and fallen into a state of drunkenness where he could no longer block out his intrusive thoughts. Everywhere he looked couples were dancing or making out and he couldn’t help the despair of loneliness that separated him from the fun.
Leaning back on the cushions that covered the bow, Lando looked up to the bright blue sky and wondered why he couldn’t find someone that loved him with the same passion he had. He was always the one to fall harder and knew it was why things didn’t work out long-term.
The half empty cup was stolen from his hand and Lando lolled his head to see Martin drinking it dry. “No more for you, my friend. Smile! It’s Kingsday: the sun is out and the music is loud.”
“Sorry,” Lando sighed, not quite able to muster up a real smile.
“What’s wrong?” Martin dropped onto a cushion beside him and nudged his shoulder until Lando spilled the thoughts he was harbouring.
—
“These heels are killing me,” you complained as they wobbled on the cobblestone. “Can we stop for a minute?”
There were groans from some of the guys in the group but their girlfriends silenced them. You smiled gratefully at your friends but knew they were in just as much pain after hours of drinking in the city for Kingsday. The thought of walking any further to the house party someone had invited everyone to nearly had you calling for a taxi, despite the chances of getting one next to nothing.
“Lennon said there will be tons of single guys at the party. In that dress you will totally pull a 10,” Sarah said as she leaned back against the bridge rail and rolled each ankle to ease the ache.
You laughed at the statement and mirrored her position, careful not to drop the glass you had accidentally stolen from the last bar. “Getting laid isn’t the problem, it’s getting the guy to stick around afterwards.”
“Relationships are overrated,” she said, blowing a kiss to Lennon when he looked her way and raised a brow. “Not ours, baby.”
You sighed longingly as they shared a smile. “I want what you guys have.”
“Well then you better hurry up because the love of your life might just be waiting for you. Wouldn’t want to miss that, would you?”
You rolled your eyes but decided that you would continue the walk barefoot and put your heels back on when you got to the house. Leaning against the rail, you balanced on one foot and reached for your heel just as a drunkard went flying past on his e-bike.
“Ah, shit!” you screamed as you lost your balance, toppling back over the rail and straight towards the murky water below.
—
Martin yawned as he listened to Lando’s long winded explanation for why he was alone and all his friends were in relationships.
“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realise I was putting you to sleep,” he sassed.
“Well if you want some advice, from someone in a relationship, you’re not helping yourself moping around. For starters, you need to get up,” Martin encouraged as he rose to his feet and offered his friend a hand before the sunlight disappeared, the boat passing under one of the many bridges. “Love isn’t going to just fall into your lap-”
A scream pierced the air before a flurry of orange material crashed onto Lando, both their eyes squinting to readjust to the bright sunlight out of the tunnel.
Your heart hammered in your chest as you realised you were still alive and you looked around to see what had broken your fall. “Holy shit, I am so sorry!”
A stunned man sat beneath you and you reached for his face as you noticed the blood running down his nose. “Oh my god, did I do that? Are you alright? Shit, you probably don’t speak English.”
“He speaks English. It’s getting him to shut up that’s the problem,” a man standing above you said with a laugh. “Lando, mate, snap out of it.”
You started to climb off his lap but his arms tightened around you and he shook his head with a wince. “Don’t move, you might have broken something.”
“Fuck, I’m so sorry,” you apologised again.
“Not me, you muppet,” he laughed. “You might have broken something.”
You patted yourself down, straightening your dress back into place at the same time, but everything felt fine. You tested your wrists and ankles too, only to notice you had indeed broken things.
“What’s the damage?” Lando asked.
“Ego mostly,” you admitted sheepishly. “I think I broke my heel on your face.”
“Pretty sure that was your glass,” he said looking at what remained in your hand, the sting of the cut on your palm finally appearing when you noticed the blood on the broken glass. “How bad is it? Am I hideous?”
“You are still a 10,” you giggled after noticing he was devastatingly handsome, even with the cut across his nose. Grabbing the hem of your dress, you gently dabbed the blood away before realising that it was a stupid idea. “You don’t have any diseases, do you?”
“Rabies,” his friend joked.
“Speak for yourself, mate,” Lando shot back and while they bickered jokingly you heard your name called from the river bank. “Is that your boyfriend?”
“Are you alive?” Lennon shouted as he ran along with the boat.
“Nope, I’ve died and gone to heaven!”
“I’ll let Sarah know!” He grew smaller as he stopped running and the boat continued downstream to some unknown destination.
“That’s my best friend’s boyfriend,” you explained as you patted your bra but found your phone missing. “Can I borrow your phone? I think mine drowned.”
Lando carefully shifted you so he could get to his pocket before settling you back on his lap. The grateful smile you gave him almost made him drop the device and he had to enter his passcode in twice before he got it right.
“Where is this boat heading to?” you asked as the dial tone connected. “Hey, it’s me, calm down, I’m alive.”
“Good, I’ll kill you myself! You gave me a fucking heart attack, woman!” You had to hold the phone away from your ear as she shouted her concern.
“I didn’t do it on purpose, but I’m sorry for giving you a heart attack.”
“As you should be! Len said you landed on some guy. Is he hot?”
Your face heated and you knew he had heard the question with the curious look on his face. “Mhmm, very.”
“You should invite him to the party and do a little sexy dance for him!”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea. I kind of…broke his face.”
The silence was damning before you swore you heard her laugh from all the way upstream. “Only you could have the worst luck with men.”
“Trust me, I know all too well. Anyway, they are stopping at the Rose Bridge so I’ll just meet you guys there. Guess my luck isn’t all that bad.”
You ended the call and handed the phone back.
“What party are you going to?” Lando asked as he pocketed it again.
“I don’t know, it’s some house party. There’s a local DJ playing.”
Lando’s smile grew and he pointed to his friend. “Local DJ, ha!”
As it turned out the house party wasn’t actually a party at someone’s house and the DJ wasn’t just locally renowned. Once you were finally introduced to Lando’s friend you found out he was the DJ, Martin Garrix, and Lando was even more famous.
“I can’t afford a lawsuit,” you groaned when you realised you had practically assaulted a celebrity.
“It’s just a scratch,” Lando assured you after Martin found a first aid kick. His poor attempt at wrapping a bandage made Lando look like a mummy so you took the box yourself and found a couple of small butterfly stitches. “Nothing a kiss wouldn’t fix.”
You giggled at his flirty nature you had come to adore in the last hour and if you hadn’t drunk so much liquid courage at the bar you probably wouldn't have been able to lean closer and kiss his cheek. His skin was warm and soft beneath your lips and when you opened your eyes you found his blue eyes staring intently back. “Better?”
He shook his head. “Nope, I think it needs another try.”
“Hmmm, good idea.” You kissed his other cheek and grinned when he pouted. “No? One last try.”
Your fingers delighted in the feel of his soft hair as you combed the curls and dipped your head to his. Your heart rate spiked and you closed your eyes as you kissed his pillow-soft lips teasingly slowly before his hands cupped your face and he deepened the kiss.
You broke away with a small gasp and your eyes were wide with the want for more. It was a look reflected on Lando’s face as he gently stroked your heated cheeks.
“Hey, lovebirds! We’re here,” Martin called as the boat reached the canal edge.
You kicked off your broken heels and Lando frowned before he gave you his, looping his fingers into the straps of your shoes to carry them. You were already wearing his shirt since your dress had his blood on it and you were certain you looked at absolute mess.
“Ready to party, Angel?”
“Angel?”
“What else would I call a beautiful woman who fell from the heavens?” Lando wondered if he was making a mistake and moving to fast like he always did but it was too late, the question was already out there.
“You could call me your girlfriend.” You cringed in an instant. “I mean not tonight, that would be way too quick but-”
Lando cut you off with a kiss and you felt his smile against your lips before he asked, “How about tomorrow?”
#Spotify#lando norris fanfic#lando norris imagine#lando norris x reader#lando norris x you#f1 fanfic#f1 imagine#formula one imagine#formula 1 fanfic#f1 x reader
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"Special Delivery!"
Yan Adult Flim Star Pizza Boy + Reader
[Mentions of food tampering]
Delivery? You didn't order any delivery.
Opening your front door by a crack - the smiling, chipper face of a delivery person greets you on the other side. The glow from your porch light reflects off his braces - bright eyes wide with enthusiasm as you open the door further. It's hard gauge your exact height difference with those heels he had, but he as things stood now he still had a couple inches on you. Those didn't seem like they'd be the most appropriate thing to wear for his occupation - neither did the micro shorts cutting into the flesh of his thighs. Reaching that same conclusion towards the work tee cut off at his stomach - you finally note the pizza box in his hands.
"I didn't order any pizza."
The stranger giggles, slapping a hand over his mouth as if you had just told him the funniest joke he'd ever heard. "Of course you didn't. It's on us. A thank you for all your... support."
Have you ordered from this place before? There's no name on the box. Curiosity peaked, you lift the box's lid. Sure enough, a hot, fresh cheese pizza awaits inside though there's some kind of sauce stop it you don't quite realized. It's far too runny to be mozzarella cheese. You run a finger through the gooey substance, quickly placing it in your mouth as it starts to drip.
It's salty - with a vaguely sweet aftertaste.
"What kind of sauce is this?"
Heat rises to the boy's face - blush visible on his freckled cheeks. "Alfredo sauces."
Interesting. "Wait here one moment."
Smiling, you take the box from him - retreating back into your home. The stranger's eyes follow your every step, drifting further down the farther you walk. Should he come in now? This is the longest set up he's been apart of in a while. You did tell him to wait.... But that ass of yours felt like it was calling to him.
"Here you go."
"Huh?"
Leaning against the doorway, you casually bite into a slice of pizza as you hand him a few crumbled up bills and some change.
"Should be about ten dollars all together. Like I said, I wasn't expecting a delivery so this was all the cash I had. Thanks for the pizza. Have a safe trip home."
The door shuts gently in his face. You were even kind enough to send him off with that. The heat burning his cheeks travels throughout his entire mortal body as he falls to his knees, the biting cold the least of his worries now.
You really didn't order any pizza. You weren't his client, the winner of that competition he set up for reaching one million viewers. That pizza.... Oh, god- You had no idea- Somebody kill him now. He should tell you, but it's too late without sounding like a total freak now. He could never show his face to anyone after such a mistake.
Your face, however.... That confused grin on your face was the cutest thing he'd seen in a long time. Not to mention that little show he got while you were off getting his tip. You were still under the believe he was just another delivery boy....
Maybe he could use that to see you again?
#yandere#yandere x reader#yandere x you#yandere headcanons#yandere imagines#yandere insert#yandere blurb#male yandere#yandere scenarios#yandere oc#yandere drabble#yandere male#brie my oc
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i would absolutely love a Hotch and stripper reader, him taking care of her after some kind of incident at her club or something? maybe a bit of angry hotch at the beginning, some angst? 💗💗💗
Your throat burns by the time his car pulls up.
You take the butt of the cigarette from between your lips and ash it next to the first. Your hand is sore between the index finger and thumb from a bad stretch, aching as you press into your pocket for your stolen box of Marlboro golds. You’ll apologise for taking them some other time.
You press the third between your lips and flick the lighter. You’re not good at lighting them, worse at the first inhale, your throat an agony that rivals the sting of your battered cheek.
Shoes on the sidewalk, a scratch of loose gravel. Your eyes well with another line of tears that you work hard to hold in, taking another quick, cruel drag. They don’t make cigarettes long enough, in your opinion. They don’t last.
He stops in front of you. Quiet, Agent Hotchner looks down at you where you’re sitting on the low wall, expression as steely as ever. You meet his eyes, worried your wobbly lip is giving you away, not sure calling him was the right thing to do after all.
When he raises his hand to the cigarette you let him take it. His fingers wrap carefully around the butt of it, the side of his thumb brushing your lips.
He flicks it to the ground and steps on it flat.
You don’t say hello. It’s obvious you’ll cry, he can tell too, and he doesn’t make you. You wince as he raises his hand again, your eyes squinting closed, but he isn’t going to hurt you. His palm is warm where it cups your cheek, turning your face to the light emanating off of the club neons.
“Do you know his name?” he asks.
“No.”
He raises your chin higher still. His frown turns to a glare, the brunt of which is directed elsewhere but intimidating all the same. His touching is gentle at least.
“What happened?”
“I told him no.”
His jaw ticks. “Can I take you home?”
You sniffle, turning your face out of his hand and down to your lap. He’s kissed you, he’s done more than that, but he knows you’d felt like you had no choice and so he’s giving it to you now. It’s exactly why you’d called him. It’s the man he is, and he should never have ended up looking after you.
“Sorry I called you,” you say, hiding your face in one hand. Pain flickers behind your eyes as tears mount for the tenth time tonight.
Hotch gives a sigh, sitting on the wall beside you. He wraps his arm behind your back and with a familiarity you need desperately. You press yourself into his side, sew your arm hesitantly over his stomach, the starch of a pressed shirt crisp on your clammy skin.
“It’s cold out here,” he murmurs, bringing both hands to your arm, one to hold you tight, the other to rub your cool skin.
“I think I want to quit.”
He nods into the side of your head. “I think you should,” he says, “if that’s what you want… honey, you can do whatever you want.”
“I don’t think I can. I’m trapped and it’s my fault.”
“It’s not your fault.” He encourages your head under his, your face to his neck. When he talks, it’s a quiet, lulling promise. “You’re not trapped. I’ll do anything you need me to do. If you want an apartment, I’ll get it for you. If you want to shut this place down, I will. The last thing either of us want is for you to work here when you don’t want to.”
“You don’t have to say work here like I’m not a glorified prostitute,” you say hotly, anger turned in rather than out.
“You don’t really think that.”
Being a sex worker is complicated. You don’t know how you feel about it, and you can’t ever understand why Hotch would bother with you. You’d worried at first that your vulnerability is what attracted him, like a kid with a broken bird, but he’s proved a hundred times that your job is pretty much separate from why he likes you. He thinks you're pretty. He loves your voice. You make each other laugh, and somehow inexplicably he’s the first person you call when things go wrong.
“Quit your job,” he says. “Even if it’s just to dance somewhere else.”
“You can say strip.”
He nods. “You shouldn’t have to worry whether your ‘no’ will be met with a backhand. You know that breaks my heart?”
You blink and pull away from him. He isn’t unemotional, but it’s a surprise nonetheless to hear him talk like this. “Aaron–”
“Please,” he says. “I shouldn’t ask you to. But there are better places for you. You deserve more.”
If it were anyone else you might get defensive. Only people who do your job could understand why you do it, it’s a hundred different things to you, but you do deserve more. You’re sick of leery men, sick of wolf whistles and bad tips and other people's hands. Hotch has never asked you to stop, but now he is, it’s to keep you safe.
You can’t begrudge him.
“I’m sorry,” you say.
“No.” He rubs your arm. “I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve that. And I’ll make it right.”
“It’s not your fault.”
“I’ll make it right,” he promises. “No matter what. No one gets to hurt you.”
You could quit. You want to. Even if it’s just for a couple of weeks, just so you don’t have to pretend you know what you’re doing. You’ll think about it in the morning. “Could I stay with you for a bit?” you whisper. “Just tonight. Please.”
Hotch taps your back for you to stand. He stands with you, brushing down your coat, his eyes impassive where they look over your face, your purpling bruise.
“You can wait in the car,” he says quietly. “I’m going to ask a few questions inside before we leave.”
#aaron hotchner x reader#aaron hotchner x you#aaron hotchner x y/n#aaron hotchner#aaron hotchner fic#aaron hotchner blurb#aaron hotchner drabble#aaron hotchner imagine#aaron hotchner fanfic#aaron hotchner fanfiction#hotch x reader#hotch#hotch x you#hotch blurb#hotch drabble
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Need you
18+
“And then the bitch scoffed and rolled her eyes like I didn't just apologize. I need to find a new place asap cause I swear next time she try me Imma fuck her up- “
“What I tell you bout cussing?” Ony’s deep voice filled the room, dark eyes piercing into yours as a warning.
“Anywaysss” You rolled your eyes, ignoring the side eye he was giving. “You’ve been awfully quiet since I came over. What’s going on?” You put your freshly manicured feet in his face.
“Nothing you’ve just been yapping the whole time.” He smirked.
“Rude” You gasped, nudging him with your toes.
“Nah I'm just chillin’. You know I like listening to you talk.” He shrugged, placing your legs into his lap. Lighting the blunt he just rolled, a cloud of smoke surrounding him as he took a hit.
“Whatever” You smiled as he passed it to you.
You and Ony often had moments like these, a smoke sesh usually spent with you talking about your week as he massaged your feet. Your relationship with Ony was…complicated. Ever since Sasha introduced you two, y'all were inseparable, constantly getting mistaken for a couple, and who could blame them?
Most thought this because Ony always had to be touching you, whether it was holding your hand, an arm around your shoulder, or a tight grip on your waist. However, for some, it was how you two would always disappear during the function. Claiming you were only talking, but the slight sheen on Ony’s lips and your slightly ruffled clothing told otherwise.
You weren’t quite friends with benefits. At least that's what you told yourselves. The whole ordeal just kinda happened. You were stressed over your midterms and Ony of course offered to help you study. Though after hours of reading flashcards and practice tests, you were still stressed and on the verge of tears when Ony offered another way to help you. That night you ended up with your legs in the air as Ony sucked the soul out of your pussy. Ever since then any inconvenience one had, the other would do their best to help relieve the stress. Your roommate upset you? Ony fed you long deep strokes, pampering you with soft kisses while he whispered in your ear. Ony was pissed that his supplier flaked on him? Ony would have the tightest grip on your hips as he drilled into you from behind, claiming the waves of your ass hypnotized him into forgetting what he was upset about. Some days neither of you needed an excuse. Some days you just craved each other.
Despite your unique relationship, you remained friends allowing the other to do what they pleased, though neither you nor Ony slept with or saw other people. Your dynamic was good and worked for both of you. That was until you started seeing Jean.
“You n that nigga Jean still fuckin around?” He broke the silence, waiting for your answer as your eyes met his.
“Ony” You groaned, the tight grip he had on your ankles preventing you from moving.
“What? I can’t ask you questions now?” He kissed his teeth, putting out the blunt.
“No, because any time you ask about Jean we end up getting into an argument and I’m really enjoying my time with you right now. So no, you cannot ask.”
“Whatever. I’m just tryna figure out when you gon stop playing in my face nd be with me instead of his bitchass.”
“Onyankopon '' You shrieked. You never understood why Ony hated Jean till a few weeks ago when Ony drunkenly confessed his feelings. At first, you thought he was joking but the look on his face told you otherwise. For a minute, you were happy. Ony was everything you had wanted in a boyfriend and you two had practically been in a relationship just without the labels. It wasn't till Jean texted you that you got upset. Why confess his feelings when you're finally in a relationship? Deciding it'd be best to forget about it, you put Ony to bed, hoping he'd also forget about his confession. Clearly, you were wrong.
“What? I don't understand what you see in him. He's annoying as fuck, and I'm pretty sure he has 4 brain cells. Maximum.” He rolled his eyes at the thought of Jean. “Why won't you give me a chance when I'm the one for you?”
“We've talked about this Ony.” You sighed. Conversations like these were becoming frequent and they were so tiring.
“No mama you've talked nd I've listened.” You thought about it, he wasn’t exactly wrong. Silently praying this wouldn't end up in an argument you gave him a chance.
“Okay. I'm listening.” You whispered.
“C’mere,” He released your ankles.
“Ony I’m not gonna-”
“[☆]” The dominance in his tone had you clenching around nothing.
Swallowing the lump in your throat, you did as he told. The moment you sat on his lap you just knew how it was going to end.
“Why you with him instead of me? And don't feed me no bullshit” His large hands were rubbing up and down your thighs getting dangerously close to your pussy that desperately ached for him.
You tried and you tried but there wasn't any good reason as to why you were Jean. Sure he was cute but he had no idea how to make you feel special and overall just couldn't please you. In multiple ways. The main reason though was that he wasn’t Ony. He just asked first.
“I don't know, Ony” You finally sighed, looking everywhere but him.
Any discipline you had when it came to Ony vanished when his hand wrapped around your throat, the slight pressure on your carotid causing your brain to go fuzzy and your panties to get damp “Look at me”
“Be real. Please” Ony released his hold on your neck to grip your thighs.
“You had the longest opportunity to ask me to be with you but you never took the chance, yet when I'm finally in a relationship you suddenly wanna give up everything and take a chance to be with me and I feel like that’s not fair to me Ony.”
He rubbed his hands down his face with a sigh. “You're right.”
"I did have that opportunity and always hesitated. I always assumed it would be just you and me, that you wouldn't pursue other relationships because of our bond. Since the day we met, I've wanted you. I know this is unfair and I'm so sorry princess, but I can't ignore my feelings any longer. Jean can't possibly be the man you want, the man you deserve. But I can. I promise to take the chance if you just give me another opportunity, and I'll do everything in my power to make you proud. You’re my best friend, my favorite person in the whole universe and I'm determined to be the person you need. I love you [☆].”
“Ony” you huffed, feeling as if all air was being vacuumed out of your lungs at his confession.
“Please. Lemme show you how much I love you.” He whispered, closing the distance that separated you. “Please” He captured your lips, his usual sweet taste with a hint of spiciness from the weed clouding your thoughts. Oh, how you missed this. Missed him. The kiss was intimate and familiar, the passion growing with each second. Ony’s hands roamed your body, gripping the soft flesh of your thighs before traveling to your ass, taking pleasure in the soft moan you let out, and using the opportunity to slip his tongue past your lips. On instinct, your hips rocked down onto him.
“Fuck, baby. I missed you” He groaned, flipping you onto your back.
“Ony we can’t” You huffed, despite the wetness growing in between your thighs. God he looked so good. His muscles bulged as he took his shirt off, your eyes trailed down his torso, mouth watering at the prominent v-line peeking from his low sitting sweats.
“Do you want this? Yes, or no?” His tongue traced lazy patterns on your skin as he littered your neck with kisses.
“Ony I-”
“Yes or no [☆]?” He nipped on your earlobe, hand dipping below the waistband of your leggings.
“Fuck, Ony” his hand slipped beneath the thin fabric of your thong, fingers slipping through your folds. Gathering your arousal before circling your clit in tight circles. “Yes, please”
“Then shut up and lemme show you how much I love you” He murmured as he undressed you. Replacing his fingers with his tongue, he lapped at your folds like a starved man, his tongue repeatedly flicking your clit. “Missed you so fucking much. Don't ever give my pussy away again. You hear me?” He muttered, sliding two digits past your entrance. The action was easy with how wet you were.
“Ony” Your thighs threatened to close around his head.
“Answer me or I'm stopping” He slowed his movements, leaving you needy.
“It's yours. I'm yours pa, I promise” Your legs shook as he continued to give you slow strokes, the addition of another finger having you seeing stars. “O-Ony wait” You panted, attempting to push his head away but he refused to let up on your pussy, never wanting to stop till he and his couch were soaked in your essence as he lapped at your clit.
“Ony I’m so-fuck I'm so close” Your words encouraged him to speed up as he repeatedly hit the spongy spot of your walls. “Ony” Your walls clenched around his fingers, leaving little room for his fingers to continue as you reached your peak.
Despite your thighs tightening around his head he continued his assault on your pussy. It wasn't until he was finally satisfied with slurping up your arousal, that he pulled away pressing gentle kisses on your throbbing clit as he pulled his soaked fingers out of your walls.
“Missed you so much” He mumbled, giving you the nastiest kiss ever, your arousal all over his lower face.
“I missed you too”
“Yeah?” He grabbed your hips, positioning you on all fours.
“Ony” You whined, pout forming on your lips as you looked back. His dick standing tall now that it was no longer confined. God, please let me have feeling in my legs tomorrow.
“I know you ain't think I was done. You played in my face and let another nigga hit and think I'm not finna put you back in your place? Nah, both you and this pussy need a reminder of who you belong to” He slid his dick through your folds, your cream acting as lube.
“Matter a fact” He lined up at your entrance just as your phone started ringing ‘Jean baby’ flashing on the bright screen.
“Lemme show this nigga too.”
first time ever writing smut nd even though it was short it took me foreverrr but i think it turned out okay. also so sorry for all my Jean girlies out there lol. anyways i hope you enjoyed nd any feedback is greatly appreciated. mwah
#aot x black reader#anime x black!reader#aot x reader#black reader#onyankopon x black y/n#aot onyankopon#attack on titan#onyankopon fluff#onyankopon x reader#onyankopon x you#onyankopon smut#onyankapon#ony smut#onyankopon x plusize reader#plusize reader#onyankopon x chubby reader#chubby reader#aot fluff#aot fic#aot smut#aot#attack on titan smut#attack on titan fluff#aot onyankopon x black y/n#aot onyankopon x black!reader#ony x black reader#onyankopon#onyankopon x black reader#onyankopon x black reader smut
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chris_bloodfilms Met my hero on a train.
This story is long so scroll if you cba reading.
It’s 2005, a band explodes on MySpace. They’re dressed like you and their lyrics are a mirror to your life. Bleeding heck, who the fuck are the Arctic Monkeys?
After 19 years on repeat it’s now 2024. Myself and @/conor_bloodfilms are travelling
back from Paris.
We arrive at Gare Du Nord and Duffy stops in his tracks. He whispers to me “I think that’s Alex Turner.” “F**k off!” I immediately reply. I gaze over at a guy wearing a leather jacket with long brown hair, his face adorned with aviators. We should probably stop staring as it’s getting weird, sexually and aggressively weird.
Turns out it is bloody Alex Turner, the man who’s provided the soundtrack to my life! He strolls past and disappears into the Parisian platform crowd. A missed opportunity.
We board our train back to London. We look to our left and there’s Alex. Sitting in his seat accompanied by a notepad. He’s probably writing the next Arctic Monkeys hit “Two gawping pricks on a train”. We really need to stop staring.
I tell Duffers I’m going in, he stops me. Reminds me that I’m a fully functioning adult and not to create a scene. Christ, he’s right! I feel like I’m 15 years old again, someone get me a Strongbow and whack Dancing Shoes on, kin hell lad!
Eventually myself and Con engage, it’s a surreal experience. Alex is polite and returns conversation in a soft friendly manner. The whole situation is just bloody lovely.
I awkwardly ask if I can take his portrait, fully aware that it could result in an awkward exchange and destroy this wonderful moment. He smiles and obliges, he’s effortlessly cool, asks for direction and I take a few snaps.
We disembark the train, I felt quite emotional and that’s embarrassing to admit. Maybe it was the jet lag, the caffeine and croissant overload? Or maybe it was just the rekindling of my youth.
This all might sound trivial, however, for me these portraits are deeply personal serving a reminder that life is a series of fortunate events and when fully appreciated can conjure up some pretty awesome memories.
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appetizer || joel miller
PART 1 || AO3 || MASTERLIST || FREE PALESTINE
pairing : joel miller x f!reader
summary : joel finds the note you left in his lunch.
** can be read standalone, it’s porn with minimal plot 🫠 **
tags : M-18+, no use of y/n, no outbreak, domestic life with joel, sarah and ellie very briefly mentioned, joel is mid-to-late-30s, joel being big kinda mentioned, sexting, these two maniacs sending spicy pictures and videos to each other, masturbation (f! and m!), pet names and praises (darling, good girl, baby…), joel using his manners (you’ll see what i mean), if i missed any tags, lmk!!
WC : 2.6k
Just as you hit send, your phone chimes again. A text from Joel.
You little shit.
You stop for a second before clicking the notification, confused. You see three little bubbles pop up and then a picture.
The note you left in his lunch this morning.
When Joel hopped in his truck to go to work, it took every creaky bone in his body not to say fuck it and march back inside to you. But alas, he had a job to do.
As best as he could, he tried to calm himself down, already half hard again after taking you on the couch not even ten minutes before just thinking about when he gets to come home to you.
Eventually, the monotonous sounds of the road lull his brain to normal and he gets to work no problem, starting his early day. His crew gets there not too long after him, clearly not happy that they are also spending their Saturday morning on the job.
“Man, it’s too early for all this. I miss my bed,” one gripes.
“Quit your whining,” Joel says. “The earlier we start, the earlier we go home. So pick up a drill and get to work.”
And they do just that. The day passes quicker than he thought it would despite how badly he didn’t want to leave this morning, and he does a pretty decent job staying focused, he thinks. Every now and then, though, he pauses, remembering how he left you. Naked on the couch, blanket lazily draped over your hips, the stretch of him still lingering between your legs… He would quickly distract himself just trying to make it through the day.
But he spent the majority of it half hard and adjusting his pants as discreetly as he could.
Finally, it was around “lunch” time (making it to 9 am after working for hours counts, right?) and Joel retreated to his truck as the other guys ran off to whatever fast food place they were craving.
Guess I would’a had time to grab somethin’ after all, he thinks. But the lunch box in his passenger seat is calling to him, and he lets himself recount the morning he’s had.
He thinks about you dancing around the kitchen packing his food, no idea that he was there the whole time… sneaking up behind you… carrying you to the couch… but he stops himself again before he gets too worked up and opens his lunch.
That’s when he sees it.
Immediately, he grabs his phone.
Your eyes flutter awake when the warm sunlight streams in through the blinds. The beams softly cascade across your face as you slowly stir awake. You’re still laying just how Joel left you earlier, adorned with a blanket that you didn’t notice he draped over your naked body before he left for work. You stretch and nestle into the soft cushions and plush blanket, bringing it up to your face and settling in with a content hum.
A tinge of panic fills your body when you remember that Sarah and Ellie are still at their friend’s house, and you quickly sit up to check your phone. To your relief (and utter surprise at the luck), their friend’s mom had texted you that they were going to take the girls to the museum today after their very persuasive begging the previous night.
You huff a laugh to yourself and text back, so fun!! hope y’all have a great day, let me know what we owe you to cover their cost!
Y’all. Maybe you would benefit from a little bit of time away from—
Just as you hit send, your phone chimes again. A text from Joel.
You little shit.
You stop for a second before clicking the notification, confused. You see three little bubbles pop up and then a picture.
The note you left in his lunch this morning.
On top of his sandwich container is a sticky note reading, “I can’t wait to suck your dick later! xoxo :P” You start texting back:
what’s wrong baby? lol
I can barely focus already after this morning and now you pull this.
i’m sorry <3
No you’re not.
You lay back on the couch giggling like a schoolgirl covering yourself in the blanket he laid on you earlier.
you're right, i don't lol
Just then, you get an idea, feeling particularly mischievous this morning.
where are you right now
What?
are your boys around?
No I’m in my truck.
You smirk to yourself and open your camera, slipping the blanket down to only cover the mound between your legs and one hip while the other protrudes up, the light hitting it just right. You angle the camera to capture the full length of your naked body, twisting a little to accentuate your curves and hit send.
It takes a minute for his response to come in. Fuck darling you’re still on the couch?
of course i am, right where you left me ;)
That’s my good girl
Just a silly little text has your insides turn mushy. You feel a warm tingle creep down your spine and you squeeze your legs together. You text back:
how much time do you have
About 30 minutes
oh perfect, that’s plenty of time :)
Plenty of time for what?
You reach down between your legs and feel the slick just starting to pool there, spreading it through your folds and coating your fingers. You open your camera again and start a video slipping two fingers inside, pulling them out with a string of arousal still connecting them to your core.
It's no time before he’s texting you back: Oh my god
Back in his truck, he’s losing his mind.
Watching you slip your fingers inside with such ease… seeing the shiny strings hanging off your pretty fingers… his cock bounces in his jeans and he palms himself over his clothes as he replays the video for the third time in a row.
like what you see?
God, do I, he thinks. He looks around to make sure he’s out of sight, luckily parked facing away from where anyone might catch him, and he reaches for his pants. He unbuttons his jeans and opens the zipper, reaching into his boxers to pull out his almost fully hard cock. He tugs up and down a few times before he lets go, fumbling with his phone to open his camera before reaching back down and videoing.
You tell me, he says back.
you’re dirty. i like it.
He chuckles at your text before another one comes in. pump it harder.
Bossy
you want more pics or not?
Immediately, he sends back: Yes ma’am.
bet you wish it was my hands instead huh
You know I do, he says. And he really does. Your soft hands feel angelic when you get him off, rubbing his length just right every time.
i wish you were filling me up
Yeah? Fingers too small?
wayyy too small. yours are so big
His cock bounces imagining how he would — should — be fucking you into that couch again for the second or maybe even third time of the day, who knows.
Not just my fingers baby
fuck, i know
Show me how much you want it
It takes a minute for the picture to come through, but he nearly comes at the sight of it. Your glistening pussy shining in the soft sunlight, your slicked fingers spreading you open perfectly showing him everything he wants to see. He almost forgets to respond altogether.
Fuck darling. Need to fill that pussy up
i wanna be on top of you. i wanna feel you in my lungs joel
Fuck, He thinks, feeling a tingle run down his spine thinking about how he would bury himself in you, just like he did this morning. He’d fill you up just like you need. He’d fuck you so good, you’d forget how to speak. His hand starts to move faster, his mind clouded with images of you straddling him, bouncing on his cock and making the truck shake.
you still there?
Yeah I’m here. Feels too good
pretending it’s me? pretending you’re fucking me?
Yes baby. Wish I was fucking you so good
His tip is turning red, the veins in his cock getting more and more pronounced. He keeps rubbing up and down, squeezing his hand at the top just a little bit, just like you do because you know it drives him crazy, and little beads of precum weep out. He’s getting closer.
He watches your message bubbles pop up and then disappear, being replaced a second later with an audio message. He turns his volume up and eagerly hits play.
Absolutely lewd sounds of your fingers pumping in and out of your pussy echo from his phone. “Shit—“ he gasps when he hears your soft moans in the back too. He plays it back again, matching each noise with a stroke of his hand pretending it’s him slipping in and out of you. “Fuuuck…” he whispers, playing it again, stroking himself harder.
Fuck baby you’re gonna make me cum soon
yeah just from that? you wanna see what it looks like again?
Yes please I do
oh you're so polite
He slows his hand some, wanting this to last just a little bit longer, eagerly awaiting for your picture.
It sends, and a deep moan slips out on accident. Your full body is on display, knees bent and spread wide with your hand still buried inside. Your boobs sit perfectly where you lay, the hardened buds of your nipples showing him just how much you’re enjoying yourself.
Fuck you’re so fucking hot
feels so good joel. i wanna feel your hands all over me
Squeeze those pretty tits for me gorgeous it’ll feel good
A minute passes before the next text comes in. fuck joel it does feel good. need your mouth on me so bad
He can’t even type normally anymore, his thoughts are racing and he can only focus on the heartbeat he feels thrumming in his length.
I want it too baby feels so good I want to taste you
He’s so close now. It’s only a matter of time before he spills out onto himself picturing you on top of him, writhing and whining as he fucks you.
can you do something for me?
What do you need darling
send me a video of you cumming all over yourself. i know you’re close
His breath hitches. Yes ma’am
good boy
That one. That text right there.
Good boy.
That’s the one that does him in.
You slide your fingers in and out trying to match the way Joel curls them just right. You can’t quite get it like he can, but it’s still pretty damn close. You pet the soft, spongy spot deep inside of you and your hips sputter. Your phone rests on your chest as you palm your tits, just like he told you to, waiting for his video to send.
The pressure builds and builds and builds, your hand wandering down to your clit while the other hand pumps in and out of your heat. Just then, your phone buzzes.
You rip your hand away from the teasing circles it draws and see the preview of the video, the picture showing the moment his white spend spills out of his cock. You’ve never pressed play on a video so fast in your life.
Joel knows you like to hear him whine, and being alone in his truck gives him the perfect opportunity to sound as desperate as he wants. You turn the volume up and hear his panting and grunting, The wet sounds of his hand fisting his cock accompanying his grunts and moans. “Fuck, angel… ‘m gonna cum…” he grunts, holding his breath for a second as the debauched squelching fills the air of the truck. He gasps and absolutely whimpers, “Fuck… oh, shit—!”
The thumb on your occupied hand finds its way to your clit while the free one holds your phone up. You watch in awe as ropes of cum spurt from his cock painting his stomach and the hem of his shirt where he didn’t pull it up far enough. His hips desperately drive up into his hand, the one holding the phone shaking as he groans your name, grunting with each rope that shoots out of the aching, blushing tip. Even when he’s done, his cock twitches with the lingering spasms of his orgasm. He finishes with a heavy sigh, an exasperated and breathy “Fuckin’ hell…” and the video ends.
The sweet sounds of his desperate whines bounce around your head and bring you dangerously close to your orgasm. You pant as you drive your fingers into your throbbing pussy furiously, punching that soft spot perfectly and you quickly open your camera, pressing record.
Joel sits in the afterglow of his orgasm trying desperately to catch his breath. His head is thrown back, chest heaving, and he glances down at the mess he made. His hand is still lazily gripped around his now softening cock while his other grips his phone, dangling to the side of his leg. He feels it buzz and looks down.
Another video.
He brings the phone to his view and presses play.
His cock jumps when your sweet gasps of air fill his ears as you whine and writhe on your fingers. “yes, yes, yes… oh, my god…” you whimper as your fingers drive into your weeping core. Suddenly, your stomach tenses and your hips drive into your own hand, a desperate moan exploding from the deepest part of your chest. You try to drive your fingers further into your heat as you grind your hips through each wave of your orgasm.
Your whines and whimpers and moans makes Joel's vision tunnel, watching with wide eyes as you take what you need from yourself. He feels his cock twitch again in his grip that he didn’t realize has tightened a little more now, the blood barely starting to rush back between his legs.
“Holy shit…” he says to no one, in absolute awe of your beauty.
thank you for that :)
Thank me? Thank you, gorgeous. That was so fucking hot
you made a mess lol
You’re not so clean yourself
ha. ha. ha.
What the hell am I going to do now
check your lunch babe, i didn’t forget the napkins this time ;)
He peers into his lunch box and chuckles. My sweet girl he sends as he reaches to grab them and clean himself up some.
and you still have almost 10 minutes to eat, told you it was plenty of time
Can’t wait to get home and get my real meal though
can’t wait for my meal to come home either. i wrote that note for a reason babe
He inhales sharply as his cock twitches again, barely starting to harden once more. Christ, this girl is insane, he thinks, but now more than ever he can’t wait to get back home to you.
Well I’m making these boys work double time then. We actually don’t have much more to do
hurry up, i’ll be waiting. right here where you left me ;)
You won’t be waiting long darling I promise
Joel tosses his phone to the side, a deep sigh releasing from his chest before he tucks himself back into his pants the best he can. He sits up a bit to eat his lunch after he realized he was very slumped down in his seat.
The other guys pull up one by one as they return from their lunch breaks, Joel sitting on the porch of the house waiting for them all to get back. Once the last of them shows up, he immediately starts ordering them to get going.
“Damn, boss! What’s the rush? We started so early, we pretty much have all day!”
He shoots the man daggers with his eyes. He needs not say more for them to get the memo and they all pick up their tools.
“Double time, boys. We’re gettin’ this shit done fast.”
Because I’ll be damned if I don't get my dessert.
a/n : thank you guys so much for 200 followers !! it always makes me so happy to see people enjoying my stuff and I'd so grateful that y'all decided to stick around 🥹 (and now i may or may not have a third part in mind... but shhh no one say anything, it's a secret)
#joel miller#joel miller one shot#joel miller smut#joel miller fic#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller fanfic#joel miller x female reader#joel miller x f!reader#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#joel miller x y/n#tlou#the last of us#tlou one shot#the last of us one shot#tlou fanfiction#the last of us fanfiction#tlou fic#the last of us fic#this is what happens when the mental illness gets way too out of hand
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My friend showed me this video from L&DS and now I’m quite insane, delirious, unwell imagining it with old man Bakugou😫
Thinking about retired Pro-Hero Dynamight, who just wants a quiet drink in his local old man pub. Sitting at the bar as he nurses his whiskey, neat.
Any and all chances of peace swiftly snatched from his clutches when a rowdy hen party enters, unable to get into one of the main bars and clubs along the high street. Groaning into his glass when the bride orders a round of shots, definitely readying himself to leave early.
Until you catch his eye— a bright pink “maid of honour” sash wrapped around your frame as you wear a hideous pink tiara on your head, a flushed glow to your cheeks from the liquor already flowing through your veins from long before you found this quaint pub. Giving him a small smile when you notice him staring, and following your friend group to your table.
Bakugou surprises himself when he orders himself another drink, staying in this loud chaos when he’d probably be better off drinking at home. Continuing to observe you from afar. You’re definitely too young for him, too cute and pretty, and definitely not interested in an old man like him— but it doesn’t mean he can’t enjoy the view.
Until you pass him on your way back from the bathroom, sliding into the barstool beside him as you twist your body to face him. The same smile on your face as he leans back slightly to meet your gaze, “You lost, sweetheart?”
“Hi to you too,” You laugh, light and airy. It has Bakugou’s heart racing as it seems to flow directly into his bloodstream, “Drinking alone on a Saturday night isn’t fun.”
Bakugou motions to the barman to bring him another whiskey, turning to face you to ask what you want to drink. And it’s cute the way you seem genuinely thankful that he’s buying you a drink, not like most that’ll hit up every man in the bar.
“You can come and join us if you want,” You grin, picking up the drink to cheers against his whiskey glass (a glass that he doesn’t bother to cheers back— just leaves it sat on top of the bar) “No fun drinking alone.”
“Not sure I’ll fit in,” It’s the first smile you manage to get from him the entire night, “And I ain’t a stripper.”
“Well, you could be,” You laugh, “You’re hot.”
And Bakugou feels his cock buck at your admission, a rush of blood surging directly between his thighs as he adjusts himself on top of the stool.
“C‘mon,” You push, “You can’t sit alone all night, that’s so boring.”
“Ya don’t need to worry about me, sweetheart.” He shakes his head, sipping at his drink as he tries to stop the saccharine scent of your perfume invading his senses and causing him to loose all sense of control.
“Okay, how about a game of pool?” You try, “I can’t remember the last time I went to a bar that had one!”
“Play with your friends.” You’re not sure whether it’s a question or a statement as you lean in closer to him, your breasts skimming the side of his arm as you pout your glossy lips.
“They don’t wanna play with me,” And Bakugou has to hide the groan that threatens to spill from his throat at the implication, “And you look like you know how to play.”
“Yeah,” He scoffs, standing up from the stool as you realise just how tall he is, “Do you?”
“I dunno,” You hum, “Maybe you need to remind me.”
There’s a certain way he picks the cue up, his scarred palms wrapping around the length of it as his forearms flex when he chalks the tip that has you rubbing your thighs together. Taking a sip of your drink to hide how you’re blatantly ogling him now, holding it out for you to take when he’s done as he grabs another for himself.
“Let’s see what you’ve got, sweetheart.”
And of course your first shot would be awful— it’s been too long since you last played, you’re far too intoxicated to focus— and you’re not even sure it’s the alcohol.
His large form steps behind you as you feel the slightest hint of pudge in his round chest as his arms encircle you to hold the cue. Pressing your back against his chest as he moves your form on the table, keeping your arms apart and your legs spread until you feel it— unable to conceal the blatant moan that spills from your lips when you feel his semi press against the swell of your ass. And suddenly you don’t give a fuck about pool.
His stubble tickles the side of your face as he whispers “good girl” into your ear, his lips graze the shell of it before he pulls back as though nothing happened. The scent of his sweat mixed with whatever aftershave he’s wearing lingers around you as you use the length of the cue to keep yourself upright, shaking on wobbly heels as you lick your glossed lips.
And you’re certain you won’t survive as you watch him walk around the table to follow the white ball, leaning over the table as he takes aim and pots a red into the corner.
“So what do I get when I win?”
#bakugou thirst#thirst posts#Jo thirsts#idk where I was going with this honestly I’m just INSANE!!!!!
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I feel like “Theodore” would suit the yan!Duke! Just my humble suggestion, I feel like the name holds a certain melancholy to it which is so fitting for his character, sophisticated yet distant. ☺️
TW: power imbalance, suggests noncon, minors DNI
—
“Theo,” you whispered.
He felt your hand gently rub his shoulder to wake him, though his eyes were already open. He was pulling you into his arms, eliciting a laugh as you told him to stop.
He asked you to wake him from the short nap you requested he take since he’d been bent over his desk for the last couple of days, unmoving and looking increasingly exhausted with each passing glance you took as you so happened to pass by his office.
He was stubborn, but he could never say no if he peered too close into your eyes, into that warm concern that threatened to engulf him, swallow him whole. And he would let it. There would be no struggle for escape, and he’d silently beg that you had no intention of letting him go.
It was much warmer than he’d thought it be, than he ever imagined when you held him. You shared it with him for years and yet he still experienced it as if it was the first time when your arms would wrap around him, offering peace.
Comfort.
It was a better high that possessed greater depths than he could ever hope to achieve.
“Theo,” you whispered as if you were sharing the greatest secret.
He loved his name on your lips.
“I hate to wake you, but it’s time to get up.”
Closing his eyes, he pulled you closer, a strange aching in his chest.
An uneasy feeling bubbled and grew the more he questioned it. He didn’t want to let you go.
He wanted his lungs to fill with this warmth, this ecstasy of happiness that would wear off and leave him craving more.
No.
He didn’t want to get up. He didn’t want to. He didn’t want to. He didn’t want to. He didn’t want-
“Theo?”
“Duke Theodore.” that familiar voice said.
Cold and harsh, it raked across his skin as his eyes snapped open. They drifted from the ceiling to where you were standing, body rigid and tight at the end of the bed to the two of you shared.
Or, used to.
You hadn’t stepped foot in this room since his King brother visited.
It was as if your positions switched.
The days you used to try and convince him to quit his work early, the two of you would cocoon yourselves in these sheets, knowing nothing was more significant than those moments. The two of you would talk or sit in silence, simply enjoying the comfort of each other’s company.
Most nights his lips would find yours, drinking in your laughter and pulling you closer as your smile shifted to something longing, something unfamiliar these days.
On the nights sleep found you before he did, he’d retreat to his own quarters, not wanting to disturb your rest, the only exception being if he wasn’t able to get a glimpse of you all day.
Theodore would seek you out as if he was in a drug-induced haze, a heavy feeling in his chest that could only be relieved by your presence, on the really bad nights, by your touch.
He felt awful when he climbed into bed next to you, wondering if you’d scorn him for pulling you away from wherever you went when you slept. But you alleviated all of his fears when you murmured his pet name, sleep-filled eyes smiling at him. Beckoning him closer, you’d wrap him in your arms and whisper against his skin that you missed him.
It sent shivers down his spine.
The gaping cavity in his chest ceased to ache.
He wasn’t sure if he was still grateful for the love you shared. If he hated you now that you had taken it away, ripped it from him like everything else he’d come to learn was never his.
He couldn’t deny the devastating hope he felt every time he came to the doors of the bedroom you shared, a hope in and of itself that you’d answer his silent expectation that you’d be on the other side. He’d open the door and greet him with that familiar smile and outstretched arms that he could collapse into.
But it was empty.
You slept in your personal bedroom.
Without your express permission, it wasn’t a place he was welcome and he didn’t dare imagine you waiting for him in his own chambers.
He hated when memories of the younger version of you would surface in his mind.
Nervous but bright-eyed, somehow, you had bypassed the maids who would’ve explained that you weren’t allowed into his private chambers without a prior appointment.
Your marriage was arranged and he could only imagine how you felt about being forced into an engagement with a complete stranger. Theodore was content to leave you to your own devices, no stranger to having distance in his relationships, but you sought him out, going so far as to climb into his bed, looking embarrassed as you undressed.
It was such a pleasant surprise that he made sure to inform the maids not to stop you if you came directly to his chambers and continued in his neglect to inform you of that specific clause in your marriage contract.
You didn’t know then and you still had no idea of the innocent secret he kept.
He could enter your room and you would have no idea that he had no right to be there, but he couldn’t bear to see the distaste in your expression as your gaze landed on him. So he only visited at night when he was sure you were asleep.
Standing on the side of your bed, he longed for the closeness you once shared. He stood so close he could’ve reached out to brush your hand across your cheek, hoping to alleviate whatever caused you to wear such a tortured expression. He felt such urgency to pull you from whatever it was, but his fears won these days. Not wanting to risk your expression worsening when your eyes opened.
He stood close, not at an uncomfortable distance like you were at now, close enough that he had to physically resist the urge to take your hand in his and squeeze until you won whatever unconscious battle you were fighting.
Theodore sat up, watching as your folded hands, pressed tighter into your body. He felt like a child, caught with their hands in a cookie jar as you narrowed your eyes on him. Sleeping in this room the two of you were meant to share did little to hide his desires.
Clearing your throat, you crossed your arms as a comforting gesture, telling yourself that you were fine. Despite having avoided this bedroom like the plague since the night it happened.
“The maids told me that they had difficulties waking you.”
He thought back to the dream he was pulled away from, mourning the fuzzy edges as it began to fade from his mind.
It was no wonder.
“I’ve woken you up, so I’ll be taking my leave now.”
Turning, you continued, “I’d appreciate it if you could give this responsibility to the butler in the future.”
A line meant to further separate you.
Before he could stop himself, he asked, “When can I expect your presence in this bedroom?”
He watched as your jaw clenched before you turned to face him once you mastered your emotions.
“If it is up to me, you’ll never have the pleasure of my company again.”
He bit the inside of his cheek, his gaze wavering.
You frowned. He’d never looked at you like that before.
“It’s a part of your matrimonial-”
“Duty. You love to remind me.”
Any guilt you felt disappeared as you considered what he was asking of you.
You hated this room.
It took what felt like hours just to work up the courage to walk in.
You were sleeping, unable to stay awake as you waited for your husband to finish talking with the King. He seemed tense and you wanted to ask him about what was on his mind.
You’d woken up cold, to the feeling of hands slipping underneath the shirt you were wearing. You blinked the fuzzy haze away murmuring the name you called him, before your heart stuttered in your chest and your blood ran cold at the sight of harsh golden eyes.
You couldn’t understand why you ever thought they looked alike.
“You call him Theo? How cute.”
When you could force air into your lungs and you could finally listen to your brain yelling at you to move, you scooted backward, using the blanket as a flimsy shield.
“Your Highness,” you began, breathless as you struggled to find an appropriate response in this incomprehensible situation. “I apologize if the maids directed you to the wrong bedroom, but your chambers are located on the third floor.”
You didn’t like that smile that remained plastered on his face as he watched you.
“I’m aware of where my quarters reside.”
Then why was he here? Why was he standing over you while you slept? Why were his hands-
“I’m not sure I understand Your Highness.”
He remained quiet.
Swallowing to bring moisture back to your throat, you asked, “Does Theodore know you’re here?”
It was a weak attempt to move the conversation along, but asking after your husband seemed like the best thing to do at the time.
He smiled, expression bordering malignancy as he answered with two words. Two words you didn’t expect to rattle you as much as they did.
“He does.”
The King began pulling at the cloth at the edge of his fingers, removing his gloves lazily.
“From what I understand, this bedroom directly connects to both your private chambers, so I suspect little Theodore has sought refuge in the library on the far side of this manor or outside on the training grounds. I can’t imagine him wanting to be close for this.”
The paired condescension and amusement were almost enough to distract you from your overlying question.
For what? is what you wanted to ask, but your throat lost its moisture at the sight of the King beginning to undress, quickly painting a picture you were trying not to accept. You’d heard about his promiscuity, with nobles, some of which were married, but not like this.
“One thing you have to understand about my brother is that despite his acts of bravery or his stone-cold appearance, it is all the bravado of a coward.”
He removed his coat to begin unbuttoning the shirt underneath. The fear that gripped your insides allowed you to find your voice.
“Your Highness,” you licked your lips, feeling your body seize with alarm, but trying to maintain a modem of calmness so your voice wouldn’t sound so stilted. So alarmed the more exposed his chest became. “I apologize if there is any perceived rudeness in my question, but why are you getting undressed?”
He laughed.
Slow, grating laughter that made goosebumps appear on your skin.
“I can’t very well make love fully dressed, can I?”
Your heart sank, but you didn’t dare to comprehend his answer to your foolish question. You were rooted in place. You couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t move.
His words refused to register in your mind.
Any moisture you attempted to retain had dried, making any sound you tried to emit, little more than a voiceless whimper.
This was the King.
What could you say to refuse? Were you even allowed to? The constant dread was beginning to grow, your heartbeat loud in your ears the more exposed he became.
Theo.
Theodore. Where was Theodore?
There was no way he would be okay with something like this happening. He would say something to defend your honor. The King was his brother.
But the King said he knew. Was he lying? Were his words a mere falsehood to placate you into silence? It couldn’t be true.
“Your Highness, please wait a moment,” you said, your voice hitching as the bed dipped from the unfamiliar weight. It snapped you out of your frantic deliberation. “I don’t think this is right. Please allow me to speak to my husband.”
“Be silent.” The King ordered. You were too panicked to hear the strain in his voice.
Irritation was present on his features as he stripped himself of his shirt and began to reach for yours.
“My word is law. Your feelings matter none in what is about to happen and there is no use seeking out your husband because he has already consented to this arrangement.”
His words struck a new sense of fear in your heart, but you couldn’t help it as your hands shot to his wrists to prevent him from exposing you any further.
With narrowed eyes, he said, “I’m not interested in making this a contest of strength. You will lose.”
You looked into his eyes, a lump forming at his gaze that was unashamed in its indifference.
“If you insist on making this difficult, I am more than willing to pay your Baron father a visit with the Royal Guard.”
The night was a blur after that.
A truly unforgettable experience.
You weighed the livelihoods of your parents, your younger and older siblings against a crack in your soul, and you still failed to come to an answer that you felt you could live with.
Somehow, Theodore couldn’t understand this. You didn’t think he ever would as he demanded the same act in the same room regardless of how it made you feel.
Maybe they were alike after all.
“If the Duke desires to push this issue then please schedule the appointed time for the end of the month in order to give me enough time to prepare myself.”
He grit his teeth. It was a slap in the face. His hidden pleas for affection were met with professional indifference, that of which he had never experienced before.
Not from you, at least.
“I wish-”
The words caught in his throat as your cold eyes met his.
I want things to go back to how they were. I want you to love me like you used to. I miss the way you used to look at me.
The longer he remained silent, the deeper that emotion that couldn’t quite seen to name became.
“By your leave,” you said, not wanting to feel inclined to feel sorry for him, knowing the guilt would creep back in if you stayed any longer.
After another moment of silence, you tried not to make it look as if you were running to get away.
You didn’t want to picture the regretful longing on his face.
It gave you yet another reason to never want to set foot in this room again.
#yandere#yandere oc#yandere x you#male yandere#yandere x gn reader#yandere x darling#yandere x reader#ask#yandere male#gn reader#yandere duke x reader#yandere duke#yan!theo
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Weed and sex... in a car. With 3 time Formula 1 World Champion Max Verstappen. What could possibly go wrong?
It's a long one boys (can it even be called a blurb if it's over 1.5k ?)
Perhaps getting high before an event wasn't the best idea after all. Max had decided to celebrate your birthday with a joint (or two or three) before going to dinner with Christian, Gerri and a boatload of sponsors and higher ups. Anyone with half a brain could have told you this could only end in disaster but when you and Max were together you were a couple of menaces. That's why Max's press officer hated that you were always around at the races and usually his plus one at events. She had a hell of a time covering up the "incidents" and "behaviours unbecoming of a formula one world champion"... ha! Yeah right. Between public indecency and and drunken shenanigans usually leading to property damage, it was a miracle the two of you had never been arrested to be honest.
Well except that one time after his first Monaco win but that's a story for another time.
Whatever, what else are rich people in their twenties supposed to do with their best friends in their free time anyway?
So there you were, in the passenger seat of Max's loaned company car, both high on expensive weed (or so Max said, the bloody cheapskate). The drive was pretty long and you got a rather intense case of the munchies about 20 minutes in so Max decided to stop for gas while you went into the gas station and bought snacks for the road. When you turned your head away from the cashier and saw max, your mouth went dry (and this time not from the weed).
See, this was in the middle of a heatwave (thanks climate change!) and max was wearing a suit. He decided that the best way to cool down was to unbutton his shirt and let his chest get some air. Unfortunately this, plus his sweaty dishevelled hair and the joint he still had in his mouth while he pumped gas, conjured up quite a few lewd images in your mind. You had never seen him look quite this debauched (again, except in Monaco but again, that's for another time). The sight was positively sinful. Or at least it seemed hot as fuck to you but you were high so who knows, either way his appearancewas getting you hot and bothered, so you decided to take a picture to remember the moment.
The cashier had to clear her throat loudly to get your attention, and by the time you had payed and left max had already got back in the car. When you climbed in you checked your reflection in the mirrors. Dilated pupils, check. Redness around the eyes, check. There was no way Christian wouldn't notice, and he definitely would not be happy.
Max's hand suddenly on your thigh brought you out of your thoughts as you looked at him, he looked just as fucked up as you felt.
"There's no way we can go to dinner like this right?" He was panting slightly and looked like he was fighting to stay alive.
"I don't think so, you wanna call Christian and cancel?"
"Nooo he's gonna kill me" He pouted as he took his hand off you to roll down the window to let some air in.
Weirdly you found that you missed its comforting presence on your thigh. And the image of it going higher suddenly entered your mind. That thought made you panick a bit, seeing as you had never had those kind of thoughts about Max. (Well, does it bear repeating? Monaco. Yeah).
Still panting, with his head out of the window like a dog, he groaned. "I don't think I can drive like this. Are you having a weird reaction to the weed?"
"Um... a bit, I guess. I'm hot and uh..." you trailed off and max looked at you
"And what?"
"No it's embarrassing"
"No tell me! What is it"
You looked at him for a moment, the two of you breathing harder than normal, both fighting something.
"Well..." you gulped "I guess I'm like, horny? But, I always get horny when I smoke, this is like... more intense? Different sensations I guess."
Max exhaled and closed his eyes, leaning his head against the headrest.
"Me too" he whispered in an oddly strained way. Then his eyes suddenly snapped open "Wait a minute! Are you telling me you've been horny every time we've gotten high together?!"
Shit.
"Uhhh, yeah?"
You noticed Max was squirming in his seat a little bit.
"Fuck, that's- why didn't you tell me?"
You stared at him. Was this really how the conversation was going to go?
" I- don't know I guess... I thought you wouldn't be interested?"
"Are you serious? I wouldn't be interested?! Even after MONACO?!"
"We're best friends Max, I don't wanna lose that. And we've never actually talked about Monaco so I assumed you wanted to forget it!"
"Forg- Forget it?! It's been three years and I haven't stopped thinking about it!"
"Oh"
"Yeah, oh!"
"Fuck"
"Only if you want to"
"What?"
He looked at you, eyes scanning your face, gaze dropping to your lips.
"We're both high and horny in a car right now, do you want to fuck me?"
You were taken aback slighly, Max was nothing if not straightforward, it was one of the things you loved about him.
"Max, I've wanted to fuck you since we were-"
Thats all he needed to hear before grabbing your hair and yanking your upper body towards him. Given both of your states it was more licking at each others mouths than actual kissing but this had been a long time coming you supposed and you were both too high to care.
You broke away and climbed between the seats into the backseat, winking at him as he gawked at your ass, barely covered by your pathetic excuse for a dress. "You joining me then, or leaving me to take care of myself?"
"Fuck no" He growled and crawled in after you. In hindsight it would have been easier and quicker to use the car doors, but he finally made it and it took you a while to find a position that wasn't too uncomfortable in the small space.
You ended up on his lap, facing the front of the car while he pulled down the straps of your dress and kissed your neck sofly. He squeezed your tits gently while whispering in your ear. "You know, since Monaco I've been dreaming of the day I would see you like this again. I was starting to think It never even happend. Like it was some kind of religious experience or something"
You giggled. What a sap. "If I had known that's how you felt I would have let you do this years ago. But could you get a move on please? I feel like I'm going to go insane if y-"
He cut you off by shoving his fingers in your mouth and pressing down on your tongue. You moaned at the intrusion and sucked on his fingers to get them nice and wet.
"Good girl"
Your eyes rolled back as you leaned back against him and he chuckled.
"See, I did learn some things in Monaco"
He spread your legs which were hooked over his and trailed his now wet fingers down over your chest and stomach, as his other hand slid your panties to the side. The moment he made contact with your clit you jolted slightly in his grasp. Being horny for so long must have made you extra sensitive. And wet. It didn't take Max long to slide two fingers into you with ease as he crooked them immediately and you whimpered. Every movement, every press of his fingers felt like heaven and you could already feel that you weren't going to last long.
Before you could say anything though, Max's phone started ringing from the floor. He picked it up, fingers still making you writhe on his lap and answered the call, the absolute madman.
Then he pressed the phone to your ear and whispered in the other "Go on then schatje, talk to Christian, I'm a bit busy right now"
"What the FUCK Max where the hell are you?! You were supposed to be here an hour ago! I'm going to kill you when you get here!"
You had to swallow down your moans in order to answer "Um hi Christian it's- it's me!" You squeaked out "Um we won't be making it unfortunately- Max- Max has indegestion and he's very ill and- aaah- he's- um he's-"
You were so close to the edge and Max showed no signs of stopping, you were becoming unintelligible under his skilled fingers.
"This is unacceptable behaviour! What the fuck have you done to him now?! It's always you causing proble-"
The rest of his sentence was drowned out as you came hard around Max's fingers (when did he slip a 3rd one in?!) and you moaned loudly before Max could slap a hand over your mouth.
As you came down the silence on the line was deafening.
"Wh-"
Max interjected "We got high Christian I can't drive!" and hung up. "He won't be calling again I reckon"
You couldn't help but giggle. "Oh my GOD Max we're gonna be in so much trouble! Christian is gonna kill me because I made you miss an important dinner and- oh my god he just heard me have an orgasm that is your BOSS- fucking hell max what were-"
You hadn't noticed that during your rambling he had unbuckled his pants and taken his dick out, but as soon as he started rubbing the tip against your folds you stopped dead.
He chuckled "Fuck Christian, I wouldn't miss this for the world"
And with that he slid in to the hilt, punching a gasped moan out of you, and started pounding into you deep and fast, somehow reaching all the right spots immediately. The build up to this one felt different. It was faster and more intense, and you were speechless. You realised too late what was about about to happen as you started dripping onto his thighs. Then the flow got heavier and Max swore as his hips stuttered, his orgasm taking him by surprise. He stopped, still inside you and you felt drained, literally. You stayed like that for a minute, both of you catching your breaths as you came to the realisation... "Max, fuck! the car!"
"Fuck the car. I'll send the fee to Christian"
You huffed in disbelief. He was out of his mind. But for now it was just the two of you, in this now ruined car, drugs just starting to wear off, and that was enough for tonight, you needed to go home and sleep it off. You could worry about the consequences later.
"So... exactly how expensive was the weed?"
Inspired by this fake pic of 'max'
Yes, I will be writing the monaco thing, I had an amazing idea for it so... that will come at some point. Spoiler, it features another driver ooooh.
And also DISCLAIMER DO NOT SMOKE WHILE PUTTING GAS IN A CAR I AM SERIOUS THAT IS SUPER DANGEROUS
ALSO DO NOT SMOKE AND DRIVE
ALSO DO NOT ORGASM WHILE ON THE PHONE TO YOUR FRIENDS BOSS KIDS
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Falling asleep in paradise.
TW: Smut, minors DNI
Lena x reader
"I have to go schatz, it's a work get together, and I need to earn some points with my boss."
"You wouldn't have to if you you weren't always late to work."
"Really? And whose fault is that?"
"Not mine! You're the one who is sexy in the mornings. And I don't like him. Always trying to hit on you."
"Well, he can keep trying, he's never going to land anything so."
He flirted with you quite a lot, despite knowing it was inappropriate and that you were in a relationship.
You only ignored him, he was delusional if he thought you would ever give him a chance.
You went to the bathroom after getting dressed, to do your make up and hair. Lena wouldn't leave your side. Standing in the doorway, watching you.
As you were adding the last touches, pouting your lips at the mirror as you retouched you lipstick, she couldn't stop herself.
"Why are you getting so dressed up?" pouting her lips, pulling you close.
You laughed at your girlfriend, her jealousy could get a bit much sometimes, but you didn't mind, actually you found it attractive.
"Baby, I always dress like this."
"Yes, but today I won't be there if you need me. I love you liebling." whispering lovingly this time.
"Love you too, more than anything."
Her hands on your hips as she kissed your neck, trying to convince you to get in bed with her.
"I'm serious. I'll be back before you know it."
You untangled yourself before she succeeded, walking towards the front door, getting your bag and keys, and her trailing behind you.
"Bye love, no need to wait up on me." teasing her. Knowing exactly what you were doing.
"And you. Come straight home. To me." she said in a firm tone that made you instantly wet.
But you didn't give in.
Giving her a kiss you walked out the door.
"Hello, girl you look so good tonight!" - said your friend and coworker as you walked to the table.
"She always looks good." and there he was, before you had even sat down.
"Hey guys. Have you ordered anything yet?"
You greeted them as you sat in between your favorite coworkers.
Some had, some hadn't and trying to rizz you up, your boss had offered to pay for the round. Which annoyed the ones who were already having their drinks.
The night carried on fine, except you couldn't get your mind off her. You had been talking for hours. But by now you only wanted to go home, you wanted Lena.
"So Y/N, do you still have a boyfriend?"
"A girlfriend and yes. Actually I should probably get going, home to her."
He let out an annoyed sight as you got up to say goodbye to everyone.
Getting in the car and taking a deep breath, it wouldn't be long now.
You were probably a little over the speed limit on the road. But you were impatient.
As you came in, you noticed she was still up, sitting on the couch, watching something on the tv.
"Thought you weren't coming home anymore." - once again, talking in that low tone.
You walked over to her, staring down at how good she looked. She aways did. Only wearing a sports bra and shorts. You couldn't tear your eyes away from her thighs. They were almost an obsession of yours.
Getting your shoes off, she had picked up on what was going on.
"Maybe I shouldn't have." - You matched her energy, as she pulled you down to her. Setting you down, on her right thigh. One leg in each side of it.
"So horny and I haven't even said much." - she traced your lips with her thumb.
"You didn't have to, after basically saying 'come straight home so I can fuck you'."
"I was only trying to convince you to stay. I'm not sure if the offer is still up." - she whispered in your ear, as she rocked you against her leg slowly. And a moan escaped your lips.
"Lena, please."
She undressed you little by little. Enjoying the feeling of your wetness on her thigh. Letting out delicious groans.
Putting her hands on your hips as she guided you, back and forth, you made a mess, throwing your head back.
By now you were grinding hard against her. One of her hands was in your hair, her lips going from you neck to your lips, kissing, biting down your lip as you moaned out her name.
"That’s it, love. Fuck-" she says while flexing her muscles under you.
As your pace starts faltering, she moves you to straddle now both of her legs, to give you more support, as she brought her hand down between your legs, rubbing your clit and adding in two fingers, reaching for your g-spot, so she could get you to finish.
"Schatz I-"
"I know, I'm here, you can let go." she whispered softly as she left a kiss on your temple.
Finally cumming on top of her, relaxing your body and nuzzling your head on her neck, as she carried you to bed.
She got up and went to the bathroom, only to come back with a damp towel.
But you pouted, hissing at the contact, you were sensitive and the towel being somewhat cold didn't help.
"I'll be quick liebling."
And not a minute later you were already sound asleep. She pulled the covers over you.
Got changed and laid down on the other side of the bed, gently brushing your hair out of your face. Falling asleep in paradise.
This was supposed to be put out earlier, but I accidentally deleted part of it and had to rewrite it. 🩷 Also first time writing smut?!
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unconditional love. ✧ park sunghoon x fem!reader genre: bittersweet fluff, coming of age angst
you liked park sunghoon, you truly did. he was kind, intelligent, and had that soft introverted persona on the outside.
when you got to know him, he became the most funny and loudest person to ever exist, which had your heart doing backflips.
it wasn’t him that was the issue. it was you. you always had commitment issues, never being able to settle down because of your past pulling you behind. i mean—how could anyone ever like you? you felt as thought you were too loud, too annoying, too irritable, just too much.
despite your brain constantly bringing you down, park sunghoon loved you. he loved every single piece of you, the way you’d blow your perfect hair out of your face as you concentrated on the textbook in front of you, the way your eyebrows would furrow when you didn’t quite catch a question or answer, the way you’d prop your head onto your knees as a way to comfort yourself.
god, park sunghoon swore you were the one. he didn’t care that his friends warned him about your earned title of being a ghoster when it came to relationships, he didn’t care that it felt like he was constantly putting in more effort than you.
as long as he’s got you, he doesn’t care. so how did the two of you end up in this situation?
“i don’t get it,” sunghoon frowns, “what did i do wrong?”
“you didn’t do anything wrong,” you say exasperatedly, “in fact, you were perfect sunghoon. you were everything i wanted and more—it’s just me.”
park sunghoon hated the classic it’s me not you excuse when it came to situations like these. but because it’s you, he lets it slide, even though he already feels the tears coming.
“i don’t want to hurt you any longer, hoonie. you have to understand i’m ending this because i care about you too much to put you through hell.”
sunghoon solemnly nods, knowing whatever he’ll say won’t change anything, that it’s already too late and you’ve already made up your mind.
it’s cruel, he thinks. life. how it could be so depressing and meekly all at once.
it wasn’t until a year later that sunghoon and you crossed paths again. you two were now sophomores in college, and had even attended the same university.
you had gotten a boyfriend, finally deciding to settle down after maturing and realizing how much of a piece of shit you were to all the boys at your high school.
his name was heeseung and he had treated you like a princess, reminding you of how sunghoon used to treat you back in senior year.
now here you were, sitting on one of the university steps with your head hung low. your parents had given you the call about them divorcing, right in the middle of your sophomore year. you were miles away, and was heartbroken knowing your family was splitting in two without you being there physically to support them.
“hey, you okay?”
you knew that voice better than anyone.
“hoon?” you sniffle. “i’m sorry—why am i even calling you that.”
“it’s okay.” he reassures you, patting your back as he takes a seat. “what’s wrong?”
“parents are getting divorce,” you scoff. “guess thats karma for all the things i put you through.”
“don’t say that.” sunghoon gently wipes away your tears, frowning when he sees more appear.
“you shouldn’t even be comforting me, i treated you like shit sunghoon, i got a new boyfriend right after i said i couldn’t settle down with you.”
“who cares?” sunghoon says, and for the first time, you don’t see the romantic love he used to have in his eyes for you. “we’re young! of course you’re going to find other people.”
you’re in awe at the maturity sunghoon is displaying. you knew it took a lot of courage for him to do so.
“why are you being so nice, sunghoon?”
“the world is already cruel, yn.” sunghoon sighs. “so therefore, i won’t be.”
and although his words won’t stop the divorce of your parents or the sadness filling your chest, it makes you feel a tad bit lighter, knowing that you had someone like park sunghoon in your life.
#enhypen x reader#enhypen#enhypen imagines#enhypen fanfiction#enhypen fic#enhypen fluff#enhypen texts#enhypen x female reader#enhypen x y/n#enhypen x you#enhypen scenarios#enhypen soft hours#enhypen ff#sunghoon x y/n#sunghoon x you#sunghoon imagines#sunghoon x reader#sunghoon fluff#sunghoon scenarios#sunghoon fanfic
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Wingman
Pairing: Himbo!Joel x Reader
Summary: Your bestie braves the tampon aisle for you.
Warnings: 18+. Period crackfic starring Himbo!Joel—don’t take it too seriously. R has a uterus that hates her. Mentions of blood, cramps, & hangover-induced puking. Dirty talk, f!masturbation. One (1) Mean Girls reference.
Word count: 1.7k
You were fucked ten ways to Wednesday if you didn’t get your hands on some soap, a steamer, and a supersized box of maxi-pads in the span of the next eleven minutes.
Joel Miller moved like molasses on a flat slab of granite.
“WILL YOU HURRY— THE FUCK— UP?”
Your cheeks were hot. The night air was cold.
Every other word that managed to claw out of your throat was punctuated by a breath—your stomach clenched, and the sex organ below it was in hysterics.
Joel continued to lace up his loafer, clumsy as ever.
“O-kay, okay,” he hummed, “Steamer, soap, and, uh…”
“Pads!”
“Uh-huh. Right. So what kinda…blood stuff is it, again?”
The words were like an aspersion on his tongue. At the ripe old age of forty-seven, Joel still hadn’t quite learned to jibe with the menstrual product lingo, and it showed.
“Heavy flow. Any brand. With wings,” you hissed.
“Boneless or traditional?”
And if he hadn’t been standing outside the truck, foot propped up against the driver’s seat while he tied his shoe, you likely would’ve smacked him upside the head. The glare you gave him was sufficiently vicious to extinguish the smirk, though. Your hand made a fist in the front of your dress, and you groaned, leaning inward.
Joel got the picture and finished his bunny ears quick.
“Sorry.”
Then, a little more sheepish as he straightened up,
“I’m goin’. Be just a minute.”
And he was off.
Your body curled into a ball as soon as he left. It cried in pain, to nothing and no one around but that fugly slut, the nastiest skank bitch you’d ever met, your uterus.
There was no way you and Joel were making it to this rehearsal dinner. You needed to be at the venue by 7:00, the clock on the dash read 6:11, and you were, currently, twenty miles shy of Fredericksburg with a rag between your legs and your best friend scouring the local H-E-B.
That afternoon you’d been running late, so of course you’d thrown on your thin, satin, pre-wedding-ready dress before you left—and forgotten a change of clothes. Joel had been hungover from all the batshit bachelor party antics, so of course you’d had to stop three times along the way just so he could throw up on the side of the road. And, though your friend was many, many things, discreet was not one of them, so of course he’d told you, point-blank, when he saw you reaching for something in the backseat with your butt sticking up:
“You been pissin’ tomato juice or somethin’?”
And you’d looked back in abject horror.
Of course your period had come a week early and made you bleed straight through your bright yellow dress.
Maria was your best friend. You were her maid of honor. Tommy’s groomsmen happened to be the most fuckable bunch you’d ever seen—save for Joel—so there was no way you’d be caught dead at that dinner with the flag of Japan on your ass. And Maria had bought the dress just for you, so you felt like you had to get this bloodstain out.
You lifted your head to peer out the window. Even with the help of a fistful of ibuprofen, you could barely move.
6:29
“Dude, where are you?!”
It was like your phone and the FaceTime call to Joel had just materialized on their own. The man on the screen was blinking slow. Ogling something in front of him.
“So ‘L’ stands for…long?” he said after a beat.
“No, that’s light, Joel, I need a heavy one.”
“This one’s got cardboard in it, I think.”
“That’s a tampon applicator, dipshit.”
In a blink, Joel’s eyes flitted to his phone. His nostrils flared, and he met your gaze with a scowl of his own.
“Well how the hell am I supposed to know that? Only stuck two— three things in a pussy before and it sure as fuck wasn’t cotton,” he griped, and if he were any less mature he likely would’ve rolled his eyes. Drama king.
You winced as another cramp rolled through you. You shook your head and tried to regain your composure.
“Just find a heavy-flow. pad. with wings. for me. Please.”
Joel sighed and turned back to the shelf, eyes searching.
It shouldn’t have been this hard, but it was. You had no doubt Joel had never willingly touched a pussy product before in his life, so the road ahead was treacherous. Silently, you felt the urge to tell him he had no business being in pussy at all if he didn’t bother to learn what came out of one every month, but you let him cook.
His dark, greyish brows drew together in concentration. He leaned forward and reached for a box. Then stopped.
Went low to grab another, before pausing to show you.
“Very close, Joel. That’s a pantyliner.”
You felt somewhat like a mother showing a headstrong four-year-old how to copy shapes onto paper. No, darling, that’s a diva cup—and be careful with that crayon. Joel stood and he stewed and, by the look in his eyes, you’d already resigned yourself to another ten minutes of this back-and-forth rummaging at least.
Then you shifted in your seat, pushing your legs down a bit. They rubbed, of course. In spite of the pain that had seized your whole lower half, you felt a sweet, dull pulse.
You stared hard at Joel’s face on-screen to make sure he hadn’t seen it in yours, but damn that friction felt nice.
Sensitivity elevated with the influx of hormones, no doubt, you sat tight and tried to enjoy the feeling on purpose for a moment. You slowly sucked in a breath.
“Aw, hell, there’s just too many’a these damn boxes.”
You flexed your thigh muscles and let out a sigh.
“I don’t know how y’all do it,” Joel grumbled.
Keep looking, Miller. Just keep looking.
Slowly, your hips began to stir, and one small grain of pleasure gave way to a jolt—a twist in the pit of your belly that made the pain less grating. You leaned into it more.
Holding your phone, you could feel when Joel let out a frustrated groan. The sound low and almost enticing.
Wait.
Wait.
“Gross,” you said out loud, half-whispered.
You couldn’t help it. Joel was one of your closest friends; a man who loved beer die, Pall Malls, and Keith Whitley like nobody’s business and gave suffocating bear hugs whenever he was sweaty just to gross you out. You weren’t supposed to find men like that attractive.
But when the grit of his voice was just so nice…
“What?” Joel stopped to look down again.
“What?” you shot back, instantly.
A frown tugged at his lips.
“What’s ‘gross’? Me?”
Not…exactly, no.
More disgusted with yourself than anyone else, you clamped your legs together and shook your head. You tried to swallow, as if the action might suck the pleasure down with it, but the hot, throbbing sensation only grew.
You were practically grinding into the towel that had been stuffed between your thighs when you heard:
“Wings!”
An exceptionally proud Joel displayed a box of extra heavy-duty maxi-pads, with wings. He was grinning.
You weren’t sure if you thanked him next, congratulated the man, or what. You probably strung some words together and tried to return the smile as best you could, but who knew? The next thing you saw was that the line had gone dead, the truck was silent, and all that could be heard above the hum of the engine were your moans.
You braced yourself against the seat and rolled your hips even harder. Out of habit, you caught your lip between your teeth to prevent a louder sound from escaping, but then you remembered there was no one to hear you but you—for now. Your palm pressed flat on the dashboard, your knees squeezed even closer, and your vision flooded with soft, minuscule pinpricks of an all-too-familiar hue.
The only thing new to you here was Joel—the thought of him had never crossed your mind in moments like these.
But now you were closing your eyes, humping the seat with nothing between your body and the old, weathered upholstery but a scrap of fabric. And you were moaning his name. Imagining a face that was littered with coarse, grey stubble—you might’ve teased him for that once or twice before—and lips that were soft. So soft against your own that you wouldn’t think twice if he tried to slip his tongue inside and hold the sides of your face as he filled your cunt to the brim. In fact, Joel’s mouth would be a welcome distraction. Knowing how foul he was in even friendly confab, he’d undoubtedly be whispering the most vile things in your ear while he fucked you.
Reminding you, quietly, that you made such a pretty cocksleeve for him—why didn’t we try this sooner?— and how you’d be the sweetest thing if you just gave his cock another squeeze and made yourself cum all over it.
The mental image of that alone was inducement enough.
You felt a hot, euphoric band of something start to give way inside you. It tightened up, twisted—then snapped. Your mouth fell open and your thighs clenched tighter, grinding desperately in tandem with a pace you’d hoped Joel might’ve set if he were laying there underneath you. You clung to one last thought of him gripping your hips and bruising your walls with the force of his cock driving in and out, over and over again until, eventually, his cum was leaking out through each fluid thrusting movement. It was all your body could take, conjuring thoughts of his load spilling into you and onto him in warm, wet, sticky—
Whistling.
Someone was whistling outside. Walking up to the truck.
You were still coming down from the staggering heights of your climax when the driver’s side door swung open. You blinked furiously, as though to drive all the filth and depravity and need from your eyes before he could see.
It didn’t matter.
Joel was too amped up off a white plastic baggy to be concerned with much else as he plopped down beside you and smiled—beamed, really. Completely oblivious.
Your extremities were still twitching with the residuum of bliss when he reached for your hand. His eyes somehow warmer than they’d been all that day, they sparkled and shone and crinkled at the corners in a way that seemed to say the words before his mouth had uttered a sound.
“I got three boxes to be safe…”
Joel was really too sweet.
“…and some chocolate for your cramps…”
Always so considerate.
“…and you look real pretty when you cum, by the way.”
This motherfucker.
#THINKING ABOUT……..….....….BIG DUMB IDIOT MEN AND OPEN-MOUTHED KISSING 💔💔#AND A LITTLE BIT OF CHICKEN FRIED#COLD BEER ON A FRIDAY NIGHT#A PAIR OF JEANS THAT FIT JUST RIGHT#AND THE RADIO UUUUUUUUP 😫#joel miller smut#joel miller#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#joel miller tlou#joel miller imagine#joel miller one shot#joel miller fanfiction#the last of us#tlou#the last of us fic
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ᡣ𐭩 LATE NIGHT DRIVES!
FEATURING: nakahara chuuya
SUMMARY: it's felt like ages since you've last been able to spend time with chuuya with how busy he's been with mafia business. you know he'll make up for it, he always does, but this time, he goes above and beyond even by his standards.
(wordcount: 1k; sfw; fem!reader, not really any other warnings necessary just reckless driving & some hints of sexual undertones at the end but nothing explicit)
AUTHOR'S NOTES: ive actually had this in my notes app for an absurd amount of time idk why i hoarded it for so long
You think that there's nothing more freeing than the feeling of the wind whipping around you and the night sky vast above you as you race down open roads in the countryside west of Yokohama. you laugh wildly, spreading your arms as the speedometer of Nakahara Chuuya's motorcycle continues to edge upward.
“Oi!” You hear him shout over the wind, “How many times do I have to tell you to hold on?”
“Relax, Chuuya,” you complain, unable to keep the glee from your voice. “I know you’ve got me. There’s nothing to be worried about.”
You can hear him scoff loudly, but you know that if you peek over his shoulder you’ll see his pale cheeks tinted pink, as they always are when you proclaim your unwavering trust in him.
“Just hold on, would you?” he snaps, and you can hear how flustered he is just through his tone, so you smile and wrap your arms around his waist, pressing your chest against his back as you lay your cheek on his shoulder blade.
“If you wanted me to hold you so bad, you just had to say so, Chuuya,” you tease, feeling his abdomen tense beneath your touch as he bristles.
“You’re insufferable,” he murmurs. You only kiss the nape of his neck in response.
You'll admit that most people would find it reckless to be in this situation—with the speedometer crossing 150 kp/h and the streets dark and windy, but you swear it’s the safest you’ve felt in a long time. You’ve missed being with Chuuya. You’ve missed the feeling of his body against yours, you’ve missed the faint smell of wine beneath the familiar cologne he always wore, you’ve missed his sharp tongue that only ever lashes at you when you have him scared shitless with your carelessness. But in your defense, you refuse to call it careless because you know Nakahara Chuuya will never let you get hurt.
That doesn’t stop him from getting anxious about it, though.
You smile to yourself as Chuuya finally slows down, pulling off on an unfamiliar side road leading into the woods. You prop your chin on his shoulder, laying the side of your head against his.
“Where are you taking me?” you ask. “Finally had enough of me? Gonna kill me and dump my body in some backwoods?”
“Yep,” he agrees easily, turning his head to the side to press a chaste kiss against your temple.
You laugh, eyes drawing around the dark countryside before you lift one of your arms up to card your fingers through his hair.
“Quit it,” he mutters, with no heat behind the words. “You tryna make me fall asleep or something?”
“Not my fault you’re so pretty,” you sigh, nudging your nose against his shoulder again before burying your face in the crook of his neck, basking in his presence as he slowly comes to a stop and turns off his bike.
“C’mon,” he says, “look.”
You lift your head, squinting as you look up in front of where he had come to a stop to see a small, nice cabin in a clearing within the forest. Brows furrowing, you swing your leg over the side of his motorcycle, getting off to take a few steps in the direction of the cabin, confused.
“What is this place?” you ask, turning back to look at Chuuya as he leans against his bike.
He’s watching you with a fond, affectionate expression that has your face hot because you aren’t used to catching him looking at you like that. He’s always quick to school his expression when you look his way, but he doesn’t this time.
“A place for us,” he says quietly, and you don’t know if you want to throw something at him or kiss him, throat closing up as you stare at him, trying to figure out if he's playing with you. “To get away from everything in the city.”
“… For real?” you ask after a moment of silence, voice a bit more shaky than you intend for it to be. You know that Chuuya isn’t one to make jokes about stuff like this but you still want to be sure.
He raises his eyebrows and then tosses something in your direction. Only barely catching it, your eyes widen when you realize it’s a set of keys.
“For real,” he agrees.
You think you might cry.
“Hey, why the hell are you crying?”
You are crying.
Chuuya makes his way over to you quickly, gloved hands coming up to cup your cheeks, thumbs wiping away your tears as his brows furrow in confusion.
“I thought you’d like this.”
“I do,” you say immediately, not wanting him to get the wrong idea. You lean into his touch, eyes fluttering shut as he presses his lips to your forehead.
“Then why the hell are you crying?” he repeats, bemused.
“Because I’m happy, Chuuya,” you say quietly. “Really happy.”
“So you’re crying?” he questions, but then shakes his head, squinting as if to make sure you aren’t lying. Once he’s satisfied, a slow and sensual smile began to tug at the corners of his lips. “What do you say we go christen the bedroom then, yeah?”
You giggle, hand slipping down to intertwine your fingers with his as a giddy feeling spreads through you. As you drag him to the front door the cabin, you toss him a smile over you shoulder and say:
“Just the bedroom, Chuuya?” you tease. "Don't be such a prude."
You let out a shriek when you feel him suddenly grab you by the wrist, pulling you toward him before you can unlock the front door. His hands settle on your hips and you let out a pleased sigh into into his mouth when he presses his lips to yours, walking you backward until your back hits the door.
You feel him smile against your lips as he murmurs, "How about we start right here then, hm?"
#chuuya x reader#chuuya x you#chuuya nakahara x reader#chuuya nakahara x you#bsd x reader#bsd x you#bungo stray dogs x reader#bungo stray dogs x you
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I know I love you ✆
call summary ⋆ ★ when a moment of realization flashes–and they know that they love you to the fullest of their heart
pairing *. * Ot5 TXT x Fem! Reader
genre⋆ ★ Fluff, slight angst in hyuka's
warnings *. Insecurities in hyuka's, bad grammar (semi-checked)
call duration⋆ ★ 2.6k
a/n*. * This was so fun to write lololol. also idk if anyone has actually noticed, but i'm slowly changing my format hehehe
taglist ⋆ ★ @kflixnet
Yeonjun’s eyes seem to blur, but he supposes that's because the practice room he currently resides in is starting to get to him, like he's hearing voices. The mirror in front of him is dusty, and it's quite a sad sight when he looks at himself—hair disheveled and messy, with his cheeks bitten red like a tomato. It's past midnight, and he knows he should be home, but he can’t find the heart to get up and leave.
The dance isn’t perfect, not to his liking, and it kills him inside as his feet get sloppy and arms start to flail in a nonsensical manner. His legs ache with strenuous pain, but he gets up one more time. Just once more, he promises himself.
Yeonjun knows very well that his words mean nothing but a lie. It’s a never-ending loop that he can’t free himself from. He forces himself up, and his fingers flinch to turn on the speaker. He's hovering over the button, but he can’t seem to move it away.
The clock reads 12:34 when he gets a shrill ring—it scares him half to death. Yeonjun stalks over to his phone and picks it up with a slight interest. It’s you, he realizes, and he doesn’t waste a moment's second to pick up the call.
“Choi Yeonjun, where are you?!”
He chuckles into the receiver. You're amusing, and his eyes crinkle. “Still at practice…” Yeonjun could almost see your grimace on the other side.
You sigh, “Are…are any of the boys with you? Or are you overworking yourself again?”
Choi Yeonjun looks at the empty practice room. He wonders if he should just fib, but for some reason, you've always been good at spotting his lies. You call it your girlfriend instincts; Yeonjun thinks it's pure bullshit. “
The latter,” he finally responds.
You go silent on the call at his words, and he pulls back his phone to make sure the line hasn't cut. It didn’t, so he just stares at your contact photo with a smile. You’re very pretty. But your next blabber is definitely not.
“Choi fucking Yeonjun! You better get your ass back home before I leave you to the streets! Do you hear me?! I am not letting you pass out again! By the time it turns one, you better be here, or I’m stuffing you into our next meal.”
This time you actually cut the call. Yeonjun knows the meaning of your threats and isn’t one to test them, so he hurriedly packs his duffel bag before he locks the door. And as he does, he knows that he’s so unequivocally in love with you—it hurts in a good way.
Choi Yeonjun realizes two things that night. First, you’re entirely scary in your way. And second, he wants to spend the rest of his lifetime and many more lives beyond that with you.
"You’re nowhere in sight. It’s quite unusual – really. Normally, you'd be situated on the couch, scrolling through your phone or reading a book, but for some reason, you aren’t there. Soobin carefully shuts the door and quickly comes to the conclusion of your disappearance; you’ve gone to sleep.
Honestly, he doesn’t blame you. He came home a little late from vocal practice and was tired himself. All he longs to do is cuddle up to your side, preferably forever. Yet he knew from his upcoming schedules that it was going to be a while before he gets his proper break with you.
Still, he smiles at the thought of it. He lets his feet round the corner to the kitchen where he grabs a quick drink of water before making his way to your shared bedroom. Soobin’s arms feel heavy, and his throat is scratchy from all the singing exercises earlier today. All he craves are the warm blankets, but he’s abruptly stopped in his daydreaming about sleep as his hand grasps the doorknob.
“The audacity of this girl!”
You’re not sleeping as he thought you were. And you’re cursing someone out – how interesting. Slowly as ever, Soobin opens the door to find you on your stomach with a computer right in your face, aggressively typing something on the keyboard. Your eyes are so focused on the screen that you don’t notice your boyfriend enter the room!
Taking advantage of your obliviousness, Soobin carefully toes his way to where you lie, just peeking over to see what got you in a twist.
Surprisingly enough, you’re writing a document-sized paragraph on Twitter. It’s filled with cruel words and language that he’s sure don’t comply with the app’s guidelines. He’s now filled with even more wonder.
“Hey honey… what are you doing?” he asks. You jump in your bed, accidentally smashing a couple of keys. Your eyes widen, and you punch a laughing Soobin. “What the hell! How long have you been there?”
He shrugs and takes off his jacket. “Long enough to question who you were bullying.”
You suddenly grow pink. “No… one?”
“Really?” Both of you know that he doesn’t buy the lie you try to feed him. So, you exhale in defeat and timidly stare at your fingers drumming against the computer pad. “Well, I dunno. Some girl was sending a hate train towards you, and I was just defending… your… name. I guess.” You grow quiet at the end, but it was loud enough for the boy to hear.
The silence in the air is loud, but before you could bury yourself in embarrassment in a heap of pillows nearby, Soobin bends to place a kiss on your cheek. He feels like he’s about to pass out, and as his stomach churns with its rollercoaster of emotions, he can’t help but feel an overwhelming feeling of love for you.
It expands in his heart and into his touch as he kisses you again – this time on your lips. He doesn’t know why, but his breathing starts to stutter when you kiss him once more, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt this time.
He relishes the warm feeling before his fingers slide to where your keyboard was pushed to the side. He presses post, and your giddy grin is all it takes for him to kiss your lips again, his hands cupping your face. Choi Soobin thinks that he’s stuck in a pool of undying love – but he’d rather drown than live if his heart wasn’t for you to kiss."
The house is quiet. Except for the quiet chatter of the TV and the slight hums of your voice, as you thread through Beomgyu’s hair.
It's gentle when your fingers softly scratch his scalp, and he feels himself falling into a state of relaxation, his heart thrumming vividly in his chest. Your legs swing next to him where he sits on the ground, playfully poking at his thighs in a comical tease, and you place loving kisses on his head, so tiny and feather-like that he must strain to feel them.
Yet, it makes him feel full and content, so much so that he's undoubtedly about to burst. Soon enough, a scene on the drama you two have been binging—filled with emotions—suddenly causes you to pause the show with a slight furrow in your brow. He looks at you curiously but knows exactly what you're going to say.
And he couldn’t be happier to indulge.
“Oh, that’s so stupid! Who in—what?!” you complain to him. Beomgyu doesn’t say anything but giggles at you. You’re entirely entertaining and quite endearing. As you rant and rant, Beomgyu notices that the strain in his jaw from earlier in the day—which he quickly attributes to being the loud one in the group, the mood maker—was slowly lessening. He could finally smile properly without such a painful toothache. So, he grins at you. You grin back, and it sends butterflies coursing down his throat.
Beomgyu also realizes that he hasn’t spoken once this evening. Yet he hangs onto every word you say, every little movement, every little quirk, and comes to the realization that you don’t expect him to chatter. You really don’t. And that’s what he supposes he really loves about you; that your words make up for his in the silence of times, and you don’t wait for him to do the same, for you know that he cannot.
Choi Beomgyu is a silent motor who dwells in the words of your love, where he will reside forever on.
Taehyun can’t help but glance at his phone, and it’s becoming increasingly frequent as time passes by. He tries not to let it interfere with his dance practice, but he really couldn’t help it. It’s like a magnet, drawing him in.
His friends notice, but they don’t say anything at first; they merely observe his odd behavior. But soon enough, their silence couldn’t be held anymore. Soobin breaks first.
“Is there something wrong with your phone?” he asks, pointing at the device that sits in a chair, right near where Taehyun has wiggled himself too. The boy in question perks up, his eyes flitting around the room, landing on each member before he turns back to Soobin.
“No,” he responds. Beomgyu scoffs at his obvious lying and points his arm at Taehyun’s phone. “Then why do you—” He then turns two fingers around and prods just in front of his eyes. “Keep looking at your phone!”
No one but Kai notices the tinge of red that flourishes on Taehyun’s ears, but his bashfulness could definitely be detected from the flustered smile that he delivers. “I don’t know what you guys mean.” Sure, he does. He was actually waiting for your daily afternoon text that you have yet to send.
Taehyun’s eyebrows furrow before he picks up his phone and scrolls onto your contact. The others sigh at his expense and leave him alone—most have an inkling about his unwarranted distraction, but Taehyun pays no mind to them. He’s on a very important mission.
Swift fingers dance across his keyboard before he shoots a very quick message. Taehyun’s very concerned by your lack of presence today, and his words are direct enough to show it.
"Hey, are you okay?"
Seconds later, several bubble pop up onto his screen. They seem to have a staring contest with Taehyun.
"Yeah. Open the door of your practice room. Kinda have my hands full :))"
The boy doesn’t hesitate to jog to the other end of the room and swing open the said door, to where, behold, you stand, with a great big smile and five plastic bags in hand. The sudden smell of food wafts through the area; and Taehyun doesn’t realize how hungry he really is.
You can tell too; you’d always had him figured out, however far you were from the love of your life. But he can’t stop staring at you until the boys come through and push him away. He guesses that they’ve smelled it too.
“Surprise! I figured that you guys could all take a break and eat lunch.” You press a chaste kiss to Taehyun’s cheek and push past him to put all of the stuff down. The other four boys rampage over to their own bags, screaming their thanks.
You just chuckle, but it slowly diminishes into a sweet smile when you find Taehyun still by the door. His eyes glow when they meet yours, and you gesture to sit next to you. “I love you,” he mouths. He decides that the way your cheeks puff and get red, or the way your lips curl, is what he wants to see in heaven. Or perhaps he’s already there.
It’s the small things, he supposes. The way you care. Like when you pour Beomgyu a drink and give Taehyun and Yeonjun your own food, insisting that you were going to shove it down their throats if they didn’t take it. Or when you ruffle Hyuka’s hair and adjust Soobin’s collar.
Later that day, Yeonjun carries thoughts. Thoughts that he whispers to Taehyun with a jolly grin after you leave on your merry way. “You better not lose her. I’ll kick you off the group if you do.”
Kang Taehyun has never believed in soulmates until you came along and stole his heart.
It’s another one of those days. Where light usually shone, it was covered in bleak clouds, ones that Kai couldn’t escape from however hard he tried. He’s stuck in forever darkness that seems to consume him whole, eating away at his heart.
The pain is unbearable; it brings forth a few tears from his eyes. They feel like acid against his skin, and he wishes to be free from the pain of his insecurities. His hair flops in front of him, and one could assume that he uses it like a mask, hiding himself away until only a shell remains.
Kai doesn’t like looking in the mirror – he has known that from the moment such dark weather clouded his sight. And so, his reflection is slashed, covered in blood he has never asked for. It’s quite horrible when it's about himself. Then it gets worse when it extends to his bandmates – his platonic soulmates.
And finally, when his wobbly thoughts traverse your way, his stomach aches, and his heart falls apart into puzzle pieces that cannot fit. He greatly wonders how you can even put up with him and his miserable attire. Kai thinks that he’s tired of himself – but why aren’t you? As a solution to his problems, he has holed himself in his room, but you have a different answer to his questions.
You give three swift knocks on the door, each loud and firm, before you unlock the door and enter. Kai doesn’t dare to look you in the eye, but he feels your glowing stare on him. He doesn’t know what to do but weakly rejects your advance.
“Just… just leave me alone,” he says.
You don’t respond. He tries again. “(Y/n), seriously! Please!”
This time, your strides stop. And nothing more. Kai questions if you’ve melted to the ground, but alas, you have not when you sigh and exclaim.
“I would, but our son misses you!” Pause. What? Kai shoots his head up, in a query that shoots confusion down his spine. Yet he feels that tinge of a chuckle in the back of his throat. How do you do that to him so easily? When he stares up at you, your hands are behind your back, and you’re pouting. He decides to ask his question.
“What are you talking about…?”
You grin at him and swing your arms forward to reveal a tiny penguin plushie. “Our son, of course! Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten about him?!” Kai shakes his head. “No, of course not.”
This 'son' of his was actually a prize that was won from an arcade game. You’ve officially adopted him ever since. “Well… he told me that he really misses you.”
You take a step forward and lean down towards him. Your eyes observe his face, and they take in the expanse of his beauty. He wishes to cower away, but you don’t let him as you take your son’s tiny flappy fins and put it on your boyfriend’s face.
“We hate seeing you cry, my pretty boy,” you say as you wipe away his tears with the soft fabric. They soothe his burns. At last, you put the plushie away next to him and lean a little closer, just where his heartbeat resides on his neck. It beats with yours.
“I love you.” You kiss his heart.
Huening Kai thinks that you’ve just mended his puzzle-piece heart into such a beautiful picture of his irrevocable love for you – bigger and more stunning than any masterpiece created on this cruel earth. And you deserve much more.
#txt x reader#k-labels#txt#tomorrow x tomorrow#tomorrow by together imagine#tomorrow by together#tomorrow x together#Yeonjun x reader#Soobin x reader#Beomgyu x reader#Taehyun x reader#huening kai x reader#kpop x reader#kpop ff#kpop fanfic#kpop#huening kai#huening txt#txt taehyun#choi beomgyu#choi yeonjun#choi soobin
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Alastor Headcannons
Fem cat demon reader in a relationship with the Radio Demon
SFW
Rosie introduced him to you. Maybe not necessarily with the idea that you two would be romantic, but she saw similarities between you two and knew you would eventually hit it off.
Once you stopped constantly arguing, that is.
The man had been an Overlord for so long and had sworn off attempting romance for an even longer period, that he genuinely did not recognize his feelings for you as romantic inclinations at first.
He knew he liked you. Admired you. And enjoyed your company. Could talk to you for hours about anything and everything. So obviously that meant he wanted to own your soul.
That blew up in his face – almost literally.
He quickly found out there was nothing he could offer you, or do to you, including putting you in harms way, to force you into making any kind of deal with him. He couldn’t make himself do a damn thing to you. And that scared him and made him avoid you for a long time after that.
But when you two did eventually reunite, it was a lightbulb moment for him, and he pretty much immediately started pursuing an actual relationship with you.
PDA isn’t really his thing, besides hand holding and possibly a hand on the small of your back if he’s feeling extra possessive or wanting to show you off.
The biggest exception to this rule is dancing. He loves to take you dancing.
Surprisingly, he really doesn’t mind others knowing you two are an item.
Some might think he’d want to hide it, worried that others would see you as a weakness to exploit but honestly? Who would dare go after something the Radio Demon held in such high regard. Let them try, my dear.
In private, if he’s in a good mood, he’s quite the sweety.
His love language is definitely acts of service and quality time.
He’ll want to start each day relaxing, enjoying coffee and breakfast with you. He cooks. And throughout the day he really enjoys just being the same room with you, even if you’re both absorbed in your own tasks.
In private, if he’s in a bad mood, he’s very distant.
Don’t touch him and try not to interrupt his work.
He’ll still unconsciously show his affection for you by letting his guard down in these moments.
He’ll let his mask slip a little, show you how upset he is when he would never let anyone else know what’s capable of actually getting under his skin.
He’ll be in some disheveled state. Have his jacket off, or bow tie undone, or hair tied back. He’ll have his microphone across the room. Little things to show he’s still comfortable being vulnerable with you but still . . . best not push it because then he’ll get a little mean.
If you’ve accidentally hurt his feelings in some way, then the insults will start. He’ll call you annoying or dramatic, but he won’t raise his voice unless you do first. He rarely swears so when he does, you know he’s completely at his wits end with you or with whatever else has upset him.
He would never ever lay a hand on you.
If he’s really pushed to the edge, his power might be harder to control. Lights may break, his shadow will go nuts on the wall around you, and he’ll even take on a more demonic, imposing form, but you’ll still feel completely safe in his presence.
Have I mentioned how rare these arguments are? There’s a reason why he’s comfortable enough to be in a relationship with you, because 99% of the time, you understand each other perfectly and can calm the other one down.
At the end of a “no touch day” he’ll usually come find you and initiate some type of cuddle. Usually once you’ve already gone to bed.
He’ll slip under the sheets behind you, probably still a little damp from a shower, and either be the big spoon or, if you’re awake, rest his head on your chest while you stroke his ears.
Those ears are mighty sensitive. Not in a sexual way, but it always sooths his exhausted nervous system when he allows you to touch them like that.
That, and your purrs. No lullaby in the world is as potent as the mesmerizing sensation of your purrs when his body is laid close against yours.
It took him a few months to admit it, but after the first time he told you he loved you; he says it all the time. His mother always told him you couldn’t overuse that phrase if you meant it, so you tend to hear it multiple times a day.
He isn’t fluent in Louisiana Creole, but he knows a few phrases, and will slip into the native accent of his youth and whisper them in your ears when he’s trying to sooth you if you’re the one upset.
He took decades to propose. You never pestered him about it, but Rosie did – and that probably made him take even longer to get around to it than if she had just let it alone.
Neither of you were super into the idea of a big ceremony but then word got out and half of Cannibal Town was asking about Save the Dates so you two decided that while the vow exchange would be short and sweet, the reception would be a fucking party.
NSFW
Sex had not been a part of this man’s life for a very long time.
He’d only been in two brief relationships, once as a teen, and once later to appease his mother, and neither one exactly went well.
Even his rut, which makes most other demons sex-crazed, used to just make him more aggressive and territorial. The physical aspects of it were easy to take care of in private, so he never had to seek out other outlets.
But then you came along and while it still wasn’t as much of a priority for him as it was for you, he still found himself enjoying and even desiring that kind of intimacy with you.
For the first time in . . . well, ever . . . he found himself initiating sex with someone, rather than the other way around, and you found yourself pleasantly satisfied whenever he was in the mood.
Don’t get me wrong, he could still be - and was often - very touch adverse, especially after a difficult day.
But if he’s happy and relaxed and you’re around . . . you two are going to end up under the covers.
He used to hate his tail. He’d even cut it off more than once, but it always grew back. But you liked it and he liked anything that pleased you. And then you started touching it during intercourse and he really liked that.
If the guy has one cum button, it’s you stroking his tail while he’s inside you.
It also really helps that you are so comfortable with your tail and you constantly let him touch it.
He’s definitely a top. Sex is just not interesting to him unless he knows you’re getting off, so it’s either mutual pleasure or your pleasure, but he doesn’t care for anything that involves just his body.
You enjoy going down on him, and it’s okay for him, at least for starters, but he rarely lets you do it for very long. It’s just . . . boring, for him. He’ll compromise and 69 if you’re really in the mood for that kind of thing.
He gets very excited when you’re in heat.
It’s the only thing that can -almost- always override his touch aversion on a bad day.
The idea of you wanting him that much, to the point of it being a near constant physical need for him to be inside you, really gets him going.
He wears out faster than you do, but even after he can’t get it up anymore, he has a multitude of other appendages (fingers, tongue, tentacles) and even some toys that he thoroughly enjoys using on you until you are finally sated.
He’s not one for dirty talk. It makes him uncomfortable, and he finds it distracting. He stays pretty quiet himself during sex, but he loves the needy little moans and whines you make.
He does bite.
And slap your ass.
He’s not usually one for restraints or whips, but he does enjoy marking you with his teeth and claws. Again, this man wanted to own your soul, so he’s going to enjoy leaving physical reminders all over your body that you are his.
His rut is much harder to handle now that he’s sexually active.
And he’s very different in bed when he’s in a rut.
That’s when he dirty talks.
And that’s when he really gets rough.
You have on more than one occasion been face fucked to the point of choking and tears.
And those shadow tentacles really come out to play during that time of year.
They’ll be wrapped around your body, your neck, limbs, etc. They’ll fuck your mouth, your ass, any part of you that his cock isn’t in. He wants you completely controlled and filled up by him when he’s fucking you in his rut.
And he can go for a very long time. Multiple times. You learned after the first year to just plan on taking a vacation that time of year because really, other than eating and sleeping, he pretty much demands that’s all you two do.
He can sometimes lose control of his power and his bodily form during sex.
You’ll know when he’s close to climax because those antlers get massive and his eyes tend to go black. And if he’s in a rut, he can get a little . . . big.
Like, all of him. His entire body. But also yes, his dick gets larger then, too.
One time, you were just about to say you were getting stretched a little too much down there, and his weight was starting to crush you, when he literally broke the bed. That’s all hot and steamy in romance novels, but you just about broke your tail that night and ended up nearly impaled by the bed frame.
Another time, he got his antlers stuck in the backboard of the bed and that was even more embarrassing for him than breaking the actual bed had been because it took him so long to calm down enough to control the size of those things and meanwhile you had just been pinned beneath him and laughing hysterically at the very horny, very frustrated, very stuck husband of yours.
He’s a self-inflicted insomniac and doesn’t let himself sleep much, so after sex, he tends to pass out next to you and when he finally wakes up, he usually insists you join him in the bath or shower for some aftercare.
He’ll help clean any wounds that haven’t already healed, massage your overworked muscles, and verbally check in with you that he didn’t take things too far. Especially since after a rough rut-induced session, he gets awfully insecure about the things he did to you in the heat of the moment.
Of course, you’re always happy to ensure him that you really enjoy that side of him and you’ve never felt like he’d taken anything too far with you.
(P.S. These are some ideas I worked through on what this ace-spectrum Overlord man would be like in a committed relationship for my upcoming OC wife x Alastor fic. I’ve been working on it for weeks now and am just about ready to start posting. It’s been very difficult writing him truly in character while also navigating meeting my OC, coming to terms with his feelings for her, and how he would behave as a partner/husband. For this post - so that it can be its own standalone work - I’ve changed all the wording to Y/N, with the only specifics being that Y/N is a cat demon. But if you really enjoyed this, I hope you’ll stick around for The Fire in the Sin. It’s going to essentially be all of the above turned into a novel, that’s half prequel and half current events for Hazbin Hotel.)
#hazbin hotel#hazbin alastor#alastor x reader#alastor x y/n#alastor x oc#hazbin hotel fandom#hazbin hotel fanfiction#alastor fanfiction#hazbin hotel alastor#alastor headcanons
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Forgive Me, if I break you | Zoro x Reader | Pt. III
Part II
Trigger warnings: Domestic assault, verbal abuse , physical abuse, graphic depictions of violence. THIS FIC CONTAINS DARK CONTENT ! MINORS DNI
*THERE IS A GRAPHIC DEPECTION OF DOMESTIC VIOLENCE THE SCENE BEGINNING AND END ARE MARKED WITH THREE ASTERISKS (***) *
A/n: I know it has taken me forever and a day to finish this part, but all of you have been so encouraging in spite of that. I hope that this chapter is worth the wait!
Request: Open
Word count: 8.4k
Leave a comment if you enjoy :)
You twirl in the boutique's mirror. The owner was gracious enough to close, so you and your friends can shop in private. Apparently the villagers have become quite fond of the pirates' during their stay. It is difficult to walk the streets without them being recognized or stopped. It seems the cheerfulness of Strawhats is as infectious to your people as it is to you.
"You really don't like it?" Robin asks, meeting your eyes in the mirror after looking you over.
She stands behind you, a little off to the left meeting your reflection’s gaze. Bashfully, you shake your head. You drag your hands down the pink fabric. This is the fourth dress you have tried on- all of them beautiful- but you have yet to find a dress that makes you feel pretty while sitting in all your ugly emotions.
"I think you look hot! but- I said that about the other three dresses." Nami quips.
"What don't you like, y/n?"
Robin's voice is soft, patient, her smile unwavering. You feel bad when you can't produce a truthful answer. 'It's me that's ugly, not the dresses' is not a sentiment to be spewed so recklessly. When you are unable to produce a satisfactory response, you shrug, feigning ignorance.
"Maybe the color?" You question. The pink feels unfitting- the color too loud for how you bleak you feel. The occasion feels more kin to a funeral than an elaborate celebration.
Robin nods, taking in the note. She flashes you a wide smile before dragging her hands up and down your arms in comfort. She implores your trust before grabbing Nami, the two of them head to the dress racks.
When Robin returns she waves you back into the closeted dressing room. She is insistent on forcing you to get dressed with your eyes closed, saying the reveal will be so much better blind. Nami shouts her agreements through the door. Willing to try anything at this point, you agree.
Robin's fingers are laced in yours as she guides you back to the mirror. After planting you dead center , she instructs you to open your eyes . They widen immediately at the sight.
The velvet fabric runs down to the floor, a high slit on your right leg. The corset is adorned with flashy embellishments, and the color- emerald green, seems a lot more fitting for the occasion.
It had been a long while since the sight of yourself in a mirror made your gasp in a way that didn't sting your heart. You couldn't be more thankful for the silly idea Nami and Robin suggested. The two squeal at what they hope is your pleased reaction.
"We think the swordsman will like it too." Robin teases in a hushed whisper. Zoro enters the room soon after, surely of no coincidence.
"And that's our que." Nami announces as the pair start their descent out the room.
Zoro immediately stops at the entryway once he sees your reflection in the mirror. his mouth is slightly agape, before morphing into a toothy grin. His crew-mate's voices seem to draw his attention back, forcing his feet.
"This is the fifth dress y/n has tried on today. She is still on the fence about it. " Robin instigates.
"Why don't you tell her what you think Zoro?"
And with that the two are gone. The room is quiet, and for a brief moment the two of you just stare. No anger. No sadness. Just a moment where the two of you could cherish being together, that you are finally alone. A moment where Zoro can just be the swordsman, and you- a damsel on the beach.
"Can I touch you?" Zoro asks. His voice is hushed and fragile. Already broken as if preparing in advance for your rejection. The stoic swordsman, the pirate who was more used to taking what he wanted than asking for permission, what had you done to him?
You nod solemnly. Thought the days of pleasantries and cautionary asks were long behind you and the Pirate. Hearing him revert back so quickly, so readily after your repeated rejections- It's disheartening. Zoro is wrapping his arms around your waist, before you have the opportunity to dissect the thought thoroughly. He plants a kiss on your temple, then your cheek before resting his chin on your shoulder. He meets your eyes in the mirror, grin still on his face. Your hand finds his cheeks caressing him lightly.
You had missed being able to bask in the eye of the swordsman so freely. To feel the warmth of his love for you in his stare. The pirate looks at you as if you are truly the most amazing thing he's ever seen. The same wonder and awe he has when tending meticulously to his swords.
"You like it?" You ask, allowing yourself to relax into his hold. Though you know you shouldn't, It is impossible not to indulge when there is swiftly coming a time you'll never feel his touch again.
"I like it. I think you look gorgeous... " He kisses your cheek once more.
The butterflies wake in your stomach. Violently swarming as though this is the first compliment you have ever gotten from the swordsman. They're quickly drowned in your guilt, in your knowing that this- whatever it is the two of you are doing- is only going to destroy the pirate in the end.
"Do you like it?" He asks as if sensing your apprehension. You shrug in response.
"It's fine. As long as you like it."
Zoro's brow raises to his forehead. His expressionless face shows that he is unimpressed with your attempt to dismiss your feelings in favor of his.
"What was wrong with the other dresses?" He pivots.
You swallow the lie that tries to climb its way out your throat. Tired of the rancid aftertaste it always left in your mouth after its departure. Part of you is astonished at how reflexive it was, the lie so ready to fly past your lips. The shock quickly turns to grief.
This is a part of yourself you could openly give to the swordsman. A part of you that only had his fingerprints indented into it. A part of you that Lee would never have claim too. This was a truth you could openly and honestly give him. Are you not obligated to?
"Nothing." You confess taking in a shaky breath. There's a frailness to your voice that houses all the tears wanting to swell in your eyes. "I'm too sad to feel pretty Zoro. To sit here playing dress up when our time is ticking away with each dress I put on ... How do I pick out the perfect dress to say goodbye to you?"
"We aren't saying goodbye." Zoro states the words plainly, as if you are supposed to know already.
You turn your head to face him. The eye contact made in the mirror is no longer sufficient enough for the conversation. You need to see if his collected demeanor shifts once your pain-staked eyes stare back at him. It does not. The pirate looks at you deadpanned, in search of an explanation.
"W-what do you mean?"
"I told you , I'm not leaving until you tell me what's happening."
The furrow of your brows has deepened into a full frown. You stare back at Zoro with your mouth wide searching for your next words. Can only describe this static in your brain as disbelief. What is he talking about? Stay? Here?
"Zoro. The sunny is leaving here in two days. Your crew has spent all morning preparing for their departure ... "
He nods, confirming your words are true.
"Zoro-"
"I'm not leaving."
It's as though your senses come flushing back all at once. Jolting your body to break free of the pirate's hold. Forcing his arms away as you create distance.
"You can't stay ... not for me." You want your proclamation to come out strong, demanding, but you only sound broken. Making a desperate plea.
"I'd really love to see you make me leave." He lets out a boisterous laugh. "I bet your husband would love that, uh? Me out the way."
Zoro reaches his hand out to you, he is still smiling. As though he is not saying he is going to abandon his crew mates for you. Give up his dreams for you. All to what- watch you play house with another man? A relationship filled with fleeting touches , and stolen moments. How is that fair to him?
"Zo-"
"I know you miss me." His voice has dropped in tone and volume. He drops his hand once you don't return the gesture. The smile previously seared onto his face is gone.
"I know when he touches you, you're wishing it's me. Every smile, every laugh, every touch , every kiss it's me in the back of your mind. All the affection you give to him- it's mine ... I know he can't make you feel as good as I can. "
You open your mouth to speak but no words come out. Nothing comes to mind in the midst of the overwhelming whirlwind of your emotions. You don't- can't- lie to the swordsman, tell him that none of it is true. But how can you admit the truth when you know there is no escape, no way out.
You could tell Zoro you loved him a million times, it is not going to change this absolute fact: you are not going anywhere.
"It doesn't matter. What I want doesn't matter." You mutter.
"Your feelings- they don't matter?!" The swordsman snarls in response . "Don't fucking say that."
There's a stab to your heart, his words cutting you just as deeply as if he put a sword through your chest. You could not for the life of you understand the concern Zoro had for your emotions when you are undoubtedly breaking his heart more with each passing day.
"Please Zoro- don't stay behind for me. Go."
"Why don't you trust me?" The swordsman asks. His voice so hushed it threatens not to make it to your ear.
The sword in your heart twists in a devilish way. Is this what Zoro has deduced? That your lack of openness could only be a fault of his own. That he has not loved you enough , made you feel safe enough. Yet another reminder of why you are so undeserving of him. Though he doesn't meet you , you still search his gaze . Look at the truth in his expression to see that this is truly what Zoro believed . You didn't trust him.
"It's not you I don't trust Zo...."
This time the pirate doesn't ask. He closes the gap between the two of you in two strides, taking your hands in his.
"Then why won't you tell me what's going on? Why won't you let me help you?" Zoro asks.
Your eyes closed at his inquiries. Trust. You have already given every bit of excess you had to the swordsman on the beach. You aren't sure you have anymore to spare now that you are home. Wished it was that simple. Simple enough to only have to make a decision and stick to it. To have only your heart to follow, but that is not a luxury of yours.
"You can't save me Zo..."
His face drops. The squeeze he has on your hands tightens some.
"I can. Ask me to. Please ..."
The room falls silent. It is now you who is averting eye contact from the pirate.
" ... Do you think I'm not strong enough?"
You sat beside Zoro digging your hands in and out of the sand despite the fact you hated the feeling. It was something to do while watching him meticulously care for his swords. In the time the two of you had spent on the beach, you had watched Zoro tend to his swords more times than you had seen him do almost anything else.
"Can I touch your swords?"
Your words were meant for the first mate, but they seemed to grasp the attention of the whole Strawhat crew. They tried to pretend, act as if the breakfast Sanji's was serving was far more interesting than the conversation the two of you were having. This did not stop his crewmates from taking turns borrowing their eyes into the side of his skull. If you hadn't known any better you'd even swore they were holding their breaths in anticipation of the swordsman's response.
The tension in the air gave way that you may have made a mistake. That perhaps that was not a question allowed amongst this crew. You looked toward Zoro, bracing yourself for the harsh rejection. Instead he removed the three swords he had just placed on his hip and laid them out on the sand in front of you.
There was an audible gasp that fell from his crewmates. Zoro quickly narrowed his eyes toward their direction, the pirates sitting on the wooden table Franky had conjured up around the fire. His crewmates' eyes scatter in different directions faking obliviousness. Usopp even started to whistle to further prove his distraction. Zoro rolled his eyes before facing toward his swords.
"This one is Enma, Sandai Kitetsu, and Wado Ichimonji."
Zoro goes from top to bottom, pointing out each sword as he names it. Lightly, he pushes the first two away, so they are out of your arms’ reach. Leaving only Wado Ichimonji within your grasp.
"What- those two your favorite? That why I can't touch them." You teased.
"Not that." He gave you a playful laugh in response. That familiar cocky smile on his lips. "These two will literally kill you if you touch them."
"Oh-"
"This one is my favorite." He pulled Wado close so it was parallel to the knees of your criss-crossed legs. Before Zoro picked up his sword he forced your hands palm side up, arms out, rested against your thighs. Once he was satisfied with your posture he inched close to you smushing his thigh against yours then placed the sword in your hands.
"Why is this one your favorite?"
You go to move your hand from beneath the sword to foolishly trace the edge of the blade, but Zoro grabs your wrist before you have the opportunity. Quickly instructing you to be still. Griped that he had your hands placed like that for a reason.
"I don't want you to cut yourself." He scolded. Feeling like a small child, a 'sorry' clumsily fell from your lips in response. Zoro continued to answer your question.
"... A friend gave it to me."
This time you got the sense that you weren't to inquire any further about this. You wouldn't dare push the boundaries of the pirate. Instead you shifted the conversation.
"Was I not supposed to ask about your swords? ... your crewmates seemed kind of surprised."
"It's sort of a rule on the ship, that no one can touch my swords. " The swordsman's hand found the nape of his neck rubbing nervously. You laughed at his proclamation. His crewmate of years hadn't touched his swords, yet there he was placing his favorite blade in your hands. Unsure of what you had done to earn the pirate's trust, you were grateful all the same.
"So two swords that can kill you ... you must be like really strong?" you ask.
"Yeah, you could say that..." The swordsman chuckled. There's amusement filled in his expression as he takes the sword from your grasp so he could return them to their home. "You've really never heard of the Strawhat pirates?"
You shook your head 'no'. Had no intention of explaining to the swordsman that Lee had controlled most of the entertainment you had access to, and the news was hardly something he viewed as a concern of yours.
"I do keep hearing Luffy say he is going to be the pirate king a lot!" You tried to defend, hoping the information was relevant. the green haired pirate let out another laugh, nodding in agreement.
" 'nd I'm going to be the strongest swordsman in the world one day."
There was no uncertainty in his voice. No unsureness of weather it would be. The swordsman spoke his declaration as if it were a prophecy.
"How can you be so sure?"
"... Because I made a promise."
-
You forgot what the ballroom looked like filled with smiling faces, a sight lost after the death of your father. The warmth you feel at the anticipation is quickly replaced with an ice cold chill once you remember what these balls entail. Acting. You fix your smile, make it wider. As genuine as you could fake. Run your hands along your dress to smooth the folds. Make sure you are presentable- perfect like the chief expects.
Lee extends his hand as you approach the bottom of the steps. He does not wear a smile, but his eyes don't hold the malice you've become accustomed to searching for. He wordlessly looks you over with your hand in his. When he begins to lead you to the entrance of the ballroom you assume your appearance satisfies him.
There's an announcement as the two of you enter.
"Presenting Chief Misatori , and his wife".
The villagers look upon the two of you with such... mixed reactions. Some scold, probably wondering what you could possibly see in such an evil man. Probably trying to conjure up ways you cope with all his cruel actions. Others are more welcoming, the pain and grief your husband has put them through carved into their smile lines. Despite which side they lay, all the villagers have their eyes on you. Watching. Waiting for any crack in your façade.
Once you two reach your table at the front of the room, the announcer introduces the Strawhats next. The reception they receive is blazing compared to you and your husband. The room fills with cheers and whistles. Toothy smiles from all patrons. The pirate crew seems to enjoy the attention, maybe not welcoming of it, but definitely not shying away.
It seems Luffy couldn't be bothered to change out of his cut off denim for the formal event. Throwing on a button up shirt as compensation for his otherwise casual dress. You suspect that was Nami's idea. The other Strawhats are dressed more appropriately, in spite of their captain's relaxed attire. Although all look stunning, your eyes fall on Zoro, dressed in an all black 3 piece suit.
This is the first time you've seen the pirate in anything that wasn't a kimono or plain black shirt. The sight is a Divine gift. You would be watering at the mouth had you not been so aware of your surroundings. The swordsman's eyes meet yours the closer he gets. He flashes you a small smirk darting his eye down to his chest then back to you.
His tie and pocket square are velvet, the same emerald green of your dress. He has a gold sun pinned to his left lapel, its center adorned with an emerald stone strikingly similar to the stones on your corset. Shock is not a strong enough word to describe how you feel when your eyes return to his.
The emotions in you swirl so violently you feel like you're going to puke. Elation. Dread. Guilt. The three battle for space in your chest. The smirk on his face turns into a crooked smile at your eyes going slightly wide. If you didn't know any better you might even say he lets out a laugh at your surprise. When the group finally makes it to the shared round table, Zoro does not hesitate to take a seat next to you. Doesn't shy away from meeting Lee's disgruntled glance as he takes his seat.
"You look amazing love, a true sight for sore eyes." Sanji compliments.
It deepens the scowl already on Lee's face, but Sanji does not bother to acknowledge him. He gleams at you adoringly with a wide grin. You can only smile in response, softly thanking the cook. You wouldn't dare throw more ammunition onto the fire already fuming in your husband.
"She does look beautiful, doesn't she?" Lee gloats.
He has dropped the scowl, in an attempt to morph his features into something more inviting. He draws you in to meet his lips for a kiss. Usually Lee isn't one for public displays of affection, but in the face of the Strawhat men, he seems more than happy to make an exception . The chief has always been one to flaunt his spoils of war.
Zoro pinches your thigh. Not too hard, but enough to draw a reaction from you. It forces you to jump in surprise, drawing away from your husband. The puzzled look on Lee's face begins to look more of anger the longer his eyes linger on you awaiting an explanation.
"I'm sorry honey. I thought I felt something run across my foot, it just startled me." You caress his cheek to try to ease the tension. The sound of Zoro snickering whispers behind you.
The further into the night it gets the more lively the party has gotten. Alcohol has started to flow, live music Blares while patrons fill the dance floor. Most of the Strawhats have scattered.
Luffy in search of meat, or adventure. Don't remember which one he was singing about as he drug Usopp along. Chopper followed gleefully with hopes to join the fun. The cook has made himself busy talking to the maid from before, her appearance almost night and day in the evening gown. The others are difficult to track down, each with their own agendas for the night. The only ones sitting and enjoying the music with you are Zoro and Robin.
Lee has abandoned you at the table to entertain the men of his council, leaving you with the command to stay here. The chief never allowed you within ten feet of the dignitaries. Always said you were 'sure to say something stupid'. 'Only going to embarrass him and yourself'. So worried you would not be perfect enough for them, in spite of the fact that these men have known you since childhood. But you do not complain. Would much rather sit at the table swaying to the music than smile in the faces of your husband's subordinates anyway. Plus, the addition of company has made the experience that much more enjoyable.
"You want to dance?" The swordsman whispers.
"Roronoa , I wouldn't have taken you to be a dancer." You jest in return.
"I'm not. You haven't sat still since the music started. If you want to dance, I'll dance with you."
Your cheeks flush at his testament, at the mere thought of Zoro willing to wade through his own discomfort for you. It aches that you cannot do the same. That instead of exclaiming a resounding 'yes' your eyes fall to your husband on the other side of the room.
"It's okay Zo. Thank you."
Zoro glances back to see where your eyes have fallen. Rolls them in response to seeing Lee. A sigh leaves his lips but he doesn't push any further.
"I'm sure I can buy you guys a few minutes." Robin interjects. "I bet the garden is beautiful under the full moon."
Her eyes glance over at the swordsman briefly before returning to her drink. Zoro is already standing, adjusting the way his swords sit on his waist before heading presumably to the garden. You watch his figure shrink as he wades through the people to find the exit. When you return to Robin, she too is on her feet. There is a smile on her face, free of any anxieties.
"I'll distract Lee. Go find the swordsman."
Your heart pounds against your chest with each stride Robin makes towards the chief. Is this happening? Defying your husband so blatantly in the face of the entire kingdom. Your breath quickens as you watch her greet him. Gets shallower with each word that falls from the archeologist's lips. It's completely snatched from your throat once her fingers intertwine with his, leading the man out the ballroom with a giddy smile on his face.
You sit dumbfounded looking at the empty chairs that surround your table. There genuinely is nothing but you and the decision you have to make. Disrespect your husband to gallivant under the stars, or- Be the good wife. Behave. Act. Sit and smile while Robin wastes her precious time presumably flirting with your husband who had done little to conceal his crush on her.
Your feet are moving before your brain has an opportunity to justify their movement. All that echoes in your brain is Zoro's voice proclaiming he won't leave. How he is willing to risk his dream for you, and all you have to do is have the courage to leave the table. Once you make it to the garden you don't have the restraint to keep yourself from running in search of Zoro. Looking for any clue of his whereabouts in spite of your heels sinking you into the dirt with each step.
"I'm right here princess."
Your head snaps in the direction of his voice. The swordsman sits at the fountain in the center of the garden. His arms crossed against his chest with his legs outstretched in front of him. There is a full smile on his face as he takes you in, really takes you in.
"You're so fucking pretty... I hope he tells you everyday."
You don't want to discuss the chief. Hadn't escaped his watch to allow him to infiltrate your final moments with Zoro. You rush to the swordsman intertwining your fingers with his, and pull him to his feet or- more accurately, he stands at your request. The music from the ballroom carries into the garden faintly.
"You promised me a dance."
You wrap your arms around Zoro's neck. His hands find your waist. He pulls you close until your chest are flush together. You rest your head on his chest as the two of you sway. There is a comfortable silence falling between the two of you.
"We could do this on the sunny. Brook plays that violin non stop. " Zoro whispers.
Your eyes close as you allow your mind one second to wander. To think about what life on the seas would be like with Zoro. Naps in the crow's nest. Sake on the deck. Morning kisses before breakfast. The swordsman would love you. This you are certain.
"That would've been nice Zo."
"Don't say it like that- like you're never coming back ."
The swordsman's plea has you stopping in place. You take a step back to look up at him with somber eyes.
"What do you think will happen Zoro? ... That your crewmates will leave and my circumstances are going to change? If they don't- will you stay here to watch me be in a relationship with another man?"
"You won't even tell me what your circumstances are!" Zoro rebuttals quickly. Seemingly having no intentions of playing these games of 'what if'. He takes a deep breath in an attempt to gather himself.
"I'm just hoping that you will eventually tell me the truth. Tell me what's going on so we can go back to living our lives together! Is that not what you want?"
"I don't get to make that choice Zoro!" You retort. "I don't get what I want!"
An astonished huff leaves the swordsman's mouth. His lips upturn as he snarls at your words.
"Yes you do! You could decide to let me love you! I've been begging you to let me help and you just keep-"
"Go!" You shout . Unable to withstand the sweet sentiments he spews so fervidly any longer. The shake of pain in his voice growing unbearable to hear. "Leave Zoro! How many times do I have to say you can't stay!"
"How many times do I have to say I am not leaving you?" The pirate responds without missing a beat.
You hate the decision you make next. Cringe at the words before they even leave your lips. Disappointed at how quickly the idea pops into your head.
"You're never going to be the world's strongest swordsman, Zoro. The world's strongest swordsman would never give up their dream to chase after some woman they've only known two months."
The swordsman’s face drops in a way you've never seen before. Worse than when you introduced Lee as your husband. That was betrayal, this-
This was pure agony.
"Why are you trying to hurt me?"
You swallow hard. Shoving down the pained cries that want to shout out the truth. 'To make you hate me.' If that is the only way the swordsman is willing to leave then so be it. You would shatter him again. Tap at the cracks in his already broken heart, until the pieces are on the ground for him to pick up again. If that is what it is going to take.
"I'm telling you the truth Zoro. I know you look down on Lee , but he would never be foolish enough to jeopardize his dreams just for me."
"You saying that makes him a better man than me? That he's the one you're choosing." Zoro seethed. "He doesn't fucking love you- I do!"
"I'm not choosing anyone." You screech desperately.
It has taken some time, but it has finally sunk in. You do not get to leave. To choose. To stray from the path your husband deemed appropriate. You don't get saved. There is nothing the swordsman, or any of the other Strawhat pirates could do to change that.
Zoro nods his head as though he is saying he finally understands. He drags his right hand down his face before letting out a tired sigh.
"You win. You want me gone ... We'll leave tonight."
***
Finally the last of the patrons filed out. A sigh of relief leaves your lips when the castle doors shut. Your performative smile drops at the click of the locks. Air could fill your lungs again. Now that the night has drawn to a close, you wish nothing more than to get out of this dress. Strip down bare so you could cry in the tub. Soothe your heart's ache in privacy for just a little while.
Lee grasps your hand in his to force your attention. He wears a smile. You expect it's rewarding of the good job you've done tonight. He pulls you in close to press his lips against yours.
The kiss is soft, delicate . When you go to withdraw, the chief does not allow you any reprieve. The tender kiss quickly turns forceful. He tangles his hand into your hair so you have nowhere to go.
"You must think I'm a fucking idiot, Honey." Lee mumbles against your lips. He starts pushing you backwards until you are pressed against the iron doors. His free hand wraps around your throat while his lips travel to your ear.
"You love the swordsman..." He whispers. "Do you really think I'm too stupid to notice? "
Goosebumps appear at his words. For a split second everything stops. Your Hearing. Your breath. Your heart. How- how could he know? Sweat beads at your brow as they scrunch in confusion. You try to blink your way out this nightmare as tears start to swell in your eyes. Refuse to accept this as reality.
"No Lee, I only love you. Zor-"
Lee squeezes his fingers tight around your neck. The piercing blow to your windpipe brings your testament to a swift end. You claw violently at his fingers. Attempt fervidly to pry his grip from your neck to no avail.
"Don't say his fucking name ... Not in my house. You and those pirates think you're so clever sneaking around tonight. Did you honestly think I would take your word on some filthy pirate? That I wouldn't have you watched after strictly forbidding you to see him? Darling, surely you aren't that pathetic..."
The sound of Lee's voice drifts in and out along with your consciousness. Your limbs feel heavy, moving lethargically with each thrashing movement. Before your vision fades to black, Lee drops your body to the floor. A loud smack echoes the halls once your skin meets the marble.
For a moment there is only the sound of your hacking. A poor attempt to force your lungs to work. Lee bends at the knees to observe you. Ponder on if this punishment is enough. If you had endured enough pain to assuage his anger.
"Tell me sweetheart..." He reaches out to sweep the hair out of your face. He caresses your check lightly before continuing. "Is the garden you and the swordsman's special place? Uh? Do the two of you sneak off and laugh at the fool you make of me?"
You go to speak, curse that your words would fail you in such a crucial time. Your brain is too light headed and caught off guard to have lies readily available. You avert your gaze away from the chief. Look toward all the staff too afraid of the man's wrath to watch his atrocities' face on, but bear witness all the same.
When you don't respond, Lee stands. That darkness has consumed the totality of his eyes. Your husband -and what little humanity resided left in him- is gone. The chief: Judge, Jury, and Executioner stood before you determining your sentence.
"You want to leave ? Go ! Be with the swordsman!"
The hair on your neck stands at his proclamation. Lee had sneered you with one trap . You would be foolish to allow him to devour you whole in another. You shake your head 'no'. Repent to the man. Implore his forgiveness. The chief stares unmoved. Glowering down at you with a merciless grin.
"I warned you before Honey. There is only one way your leaving."
You push your back further into the doors. Willing them to burst open at the force. Your eyes scatter the area as he approaches. There is nowhere to run. Nothing to grab. You are utterly helpless to the whims of the chief.
Lee fists his hand into your hair, grabbing tightly, then pulls to drag you along the floor. The scream you let out at the sting does not deter him. Neither does your kicking, or clawing at his fingers in hopes of relief. None of it offers any reprieve.
"I don't want to leave. I don't want to go with the swordsman. Please Lee- Let me stay." You wail. Your heels slide against the stone floor foiling your attempts to dig your feet into the ground.
Lee has made it to the bottom of the staircase, and finally in the chaos, you are able to ascertain his plans. This was it, the final straw on the camel's back. The last defiance Lee is willing to forgive. He had finally deemed you useless. Worthless. And was planning to get rid of you in such a manner.
"I tried to teach you sweetheart, but you just won't learn." He scolds
Your body must be weightless the way Lee is so effortlessly dragging you up the steps. Was this really how things were going to end? Had the chief decided himself so deserving of his authority he would rule without the woman who made him monarch in the first place? Your father must be turning in his grave at the sight.
"I'll be good. I promise!" You weep. Your hands are tangled in your hair searching for relief.
The chief lets out an obnoxious laugh. Now that the two of you are at the top of the stairs, it has only gotten easier for the man to drag you along the hardwood floor. The entrance to your bedroom is coming into view. The boom of your heart thumping rings in your ears. Your time is running out.
"Trying to play me like some fucking idiot. I guess you are your fathers daughter after all... "
Fervidly you press white fingertips into the door frame, using all the strength you had to fight against Lee's pull. It is no use. Like a rag doll at the manipulation of her owner you're easily forced into the room.
"I'll have to take care of you, just like I did your father."
"Please ! Please ! Please ! Please -" You beg, pleas barely audible in the midst of your sobs.
Your eyes scatter the room in one last stitch effort to save your life. If this were it, you refused to go quietly. Scissors. They have fallen from the top of your dresser onto the floor in front of the bed. You thank whatever god has taken mercy on you. Whoever decided the chief plans too nefarious to come to fruition.
You snatch the blades as he drags you past the bed. Jab the tool into the chief's feet before withdrawing and jamming it into his thigh. Lee lets out a sharp yelp, before falling to the floor. He curses loudly, grasping his wound. There is no time to revel in victory.
Hastily you rush to your feet, fleeing out the room. You can hear the man shouting out after you, but the mistake is already made. Too deep to fall to your knees and beg forgiveness now.
***
The rain refuses to let up. With each thud of your feet against the wet forest floor, you swear the drops only quicken in pace. The regal gown you wear , or the pieces that remain in tack, are soaked through. Your heels are long discarded in the shuffle. In spite of the adrenaline pumping through your veins, you shudder at the brisk winds.
You push your discomfort aside. No time to think about the weather, when you had to flee as far away from your home as you could. you had gotten away once , surely you could do it again. Had to be able to do it again.
guilt consumes you with each step you plow into the ground. Leaving behind the home your mother raised you in. The land your father thought sacred- just to save yourself. Selfish. That's all you are. Selfish. Pitiful. Failure- Your thoughts flee when you go crashing onto the wet forest ground.
Hurriedly you wipe at your face to see the culprit of your disruption. It is to no avail. The rain has done a remarkable job at distorting your vision. The darkness is its fateful ally. You can barely make out the voices calling to you through the rumbling of the thunder.
"What are you doing out here?"
There's a hand around your arm dragging you up before you are able to grasp your bearings. Fear consumes you too much to focus. Only know that getting caught isn't not an option. You jerk to free your arm, but the hold is too strong.
"Y/n!"
Your panic forces coherence. Your vision finally comes to.
Zoro.
His face is contorted into a grimace as he looks you over. His hand travels up and down your arm as though he could wash the bruises away with the fallen rain. When the wounds remain the pirate pierces his eye into yours.
"What Happened?" He growls.
Your arms wrap your body. As if you could stretch your limbs around you like Strawhat to hide your bruises. Eyes quick to dart away from him. For a second you try to conjure up a palatable explanation. One that would soothe the fire in the pirate's eye. Eradicate the concern from his voice. But there is none.
For the first time in six months you are all out of excuses. All out of ways to justify the pain away. No words to lie reassurance into anyone's hearts.
Your eyes are glued to the floor shielding your face from your audience. From Zoro. Your skin trembles against his fingers. Using his free hand, Zoro wraps his fingers gently around your chin. You wince at his touch. The sting is intense despite his delicate disposition.
Don't want to expose yourself to him any further. The scratches and cuts that covered you were indicator enough of your injuries. The swordsman does not care. He gently presses against your jaw , forcing your head up to see the fingers indented into your neck. The red bands evidence of your skirmish even without your confirmation.
You feel small underneath Zoro's gaze. There's a mix of emotions that flow through his eye. Anger. Relief. Guilt. The only that's lingers is pity. It makes your skin crawl to see it so clearly painted on his face.
"Did he do this to you?" The swordsman barks.
You want to run. You're going to run. Refuse to be subjected to the pitiful glances and stares . It is as if Zoro can read your mind, tightening his grip around your arm the moment your muscles tense beneath him.
"...Yes." The answer is almost lost in the storm.
Zoro releases you. His hand immediately finds Enma's hilt. Wordlessly he turns to walk in the direction of the castle. His crewmates do not speak. Wouldn't dare ask where he was going when the answer is so obvious.
"Please- Zoro! Don't leave me!" You sob, tears mixing into the rainfall that covers your cheeks. Your voice, broken from Lee's abuse, forces your plea to come out as a strained cry. Zoro stops in his tracks to glance your way.
"I know I don't deserve you! I know you're too good for me! I know! But please-"
You can barely make him out as he approaches. The blur from the showers distorts his figure. Can only make out the swordsman sheathing his weapon. In seconds he is within your grasp, drawing you into his chest as his arms wrap around your shoulder.
"Shh- I'm right here."
You curl into his hold, trying to shield yourself from everyone- everything. Can only bawl into the pirates chest. Your legs fail you. Too weak to hold their own. Zoro does not let you fall, holds all your weight against him as you cry.
"He killed him. He killed my father."
There is only the sound of thunder in the air. You have rendered the pirate speechless. This was probably the first time the swordsman has ever not known what to say. How to comfort you. Zoro holds you tighter, closer. Rubs your back in a soothing way.
"... Let's go home." Zoro whispers, kissing the top of your head.
The walk to the sunny is silent. Not even the pirate captain has anything to say. It's hard not to feel on display in the midst of everyone stares. You know your friends do not mean to watch in the way they do. To trail their eyes down your abused body every time they glance your way. Probably just taken aback by your appearance. You look far worse than when you washed ashore on the beach. Still, it makes you want to hide. Strip yourself of your skin to escape their stares.
Zoro glances over at you every few seconds like he must be sure you're still there. That you haven't abandoned his side. Run off to lick your wounds in isolation.
"Here."
The pirate strips out of his suit jacket then wraps it around your shoulders. Although soaked from the rain you appreciate having the cover. For being able to give your arms a break from shielding you. The coolness against your skin actually offers some relief to the pain drenching your body.
Immediately once you board Sunny, Zoro is walking you to the infirmary to have chopper look at you. He does not ask, and you get the impression that the topic isn't up for debate. Chopper does not ask any questions. Doesn't pry about how your injuries came about. Just treats each wound, handling you as delicately as he can.
Zoro holds your hand the entire appointment. lightly rubbing your knuckles with his thumb. You squeeze his fingers tightly at Chopper feeling your neck.
"It's okay princess, you're doing so good. He's almost done. Right chopper?"
"All done." The reindeer backs away hooves up as proof. "I'm going to give you some ice for your neck, leave it on for about twenty minutes."
"And the rest of her bruises?" Zoro asks.
"I don't have any reason to believe there is internal bleeding, but we will keep an eye on your condition the next couple days just to be sure."
Chopper extends out an ice pack for you then goes to rifle through the medication cabinet. Once convinced he has all he needs he turns to hand you two bottles.
"These are for the pain. Take these in the morning " He holds up one bottle, shakes it lightly then picks up the other. "These are for night."
Zoro reaches to take both bottles before you have the chance to.
"Thank you chopper."
-
Zoro holds your hand the whole way to his quarters. Though you told him when you first boarded the ship you could walk on your own now, he does not let you go. You suspect Zoro is scared of where you'll go if he does.
When the two of you walk into his quarters it is quiet. Only the soft sound of the waves swaying the boat fills the air. You make your way to the bed, flopping lazily on top of the comforter. Your body begs the comfort of a soft mattress after all the harsh treatment. When you look over at Zoro he hasn't moved.
The swordsman's back is against the door as though he is guarding it. Covering the exits so you could not scurry away from him again. His gaze doesn't linger on you, instead he stares out of the singular port hole into the darkness of the night.
The quiet begins to eat away at your consciousness. Usually silence was comfortable between you and the pirate. No words ever needed to be exchanged to feel the comfort of the other person's presence. But now was different-
Now you stood in front of the swordsman with your heart in pieces, just as broken as him. Waiting for him to put the pieces back together like he had done unknowingly so many times before. How could two people, broken the way you two are broken, offer anyone comfort or solace?
"Is this what you didn't want to tell me? ..." Zoro asks.
His voice battles the waves for space in the room. Wins only barely taking its place. You don't say anything. Act as though his question going unanswered, will keep the truth from spilling into the space.
"How long?"
"... Since my father died."
Zoro gives you a curt nod before pushing himself away from the door. Still his eye does not fall on you. Part of you begins to wander if it's intentional. If the sight of your broken body is just too much for the swordsman to bear.
"You can take the bed. I'll wake you up when it's time to take your meds again. Chopper will be just down the hall. If you need me, I'll be in the crow's nest." He begins to ramble.
As your mind reels the pirate starts to rifle through his clothes for a clean shirt. A task you are sure requires exceptional effort in his messy quarters. After the third black tee Zoro finds a clean one and hands it out to you. Only then has your mind caught up enough to clasp his wrist.
"I don't want to sleep alone." You admitted. "Please don't make me sleep another night without you."
Zoro exhales a shaky breath. Like it is taking everything in him to grasp his bearings.
"Okay. " He whispers in response.
The sentiment settles and wrenches your heart. The guilt pains you much more than the bruises ever could. The physical pain would heal. In time the red marks around your throat would fade. The cuts that cover your feet will only be a distant memory. But you will forever have to live with the pain of what you did to the swordsman.
As Zoro climbs into the bed you wonder why he still has so much affection left for you. Why he was offering refuge after the terrible things you said. Think it might have been better had he screamed. Cursed and yelled at the sight of you, opposed to these gentle ministrations. After all, you deserved to feel a fraction of the pain you have put him through.
"I'm so sorry Zoro. I-"
"Go to sleep." He mutters. Lazily wrapping an arm around your waist. "We can talk in the morning."
The swordsman holds you close to his chest. His hold is so tight it slightly stings against your wounds. If you concentrate enough you swear you can feel Zoro's heart thumping violently.
The smell of the sea can almost deceive you into believing you're on the beach. That things are okay. The daydream only crushes your spirits more. Emphasizes how your world is actively crumbling around you.
You wished you had the heart to let it go. To not need reassurance at his expense. But the words are fumbling out your mouth before you can stop them.
"Do you still love me?" You choke out.
There is no strength left to hold back any tears. To swallow the vulnerability before the pirate is able to see it. All that is left is to slice your chest open for the swordsman. Show him all the broken ribs you have endured trying to protect your heart only to have it broken in the end.
"I still love you." He confirms placing a kiss to your temple.
The words bring more anguish than relief. A visceral hurt cascades your body. All you can do is sob. Grasping desperately onto his arm in an attempt to ground yourself.
"I hate him, Zoro. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him."
"I'm going to kill him." The pirate announces.
The definiteness in his voice , kin to when he announced he would be the strongest swordsman in the world. You turn in his arms to face him, and this time when you look up at the pirate he is meeting your gaze. The stress of the day so clearly pronounced by the bags under his eyes.
"Zoro you don't hav-"
"Go to sleep." The swordsman reiterates, before you can continue. He sweeps his thumb across your cheek to wipe away your tears, even though more come to replace them. He gives you a soft, weak smile before gently pressing his lips to yours. The feather light touch has you second guessing if you had felt him at all.
"We'll talk in the morning."
—————————————————————————————
A/n: Hey luvbugs! I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Comment your favorite quote 👀 or part ! I’d love to know. I think there’s gonna be about two more parts left at the most. Ahhhh can’t believe we’re almost done.
If you would like to be on the taglist , let me know ! I’d love to have you! :)
Tag List: @turtletaubwrites @jinjen @sanzu-clinic @heyauntieeee @honeybuzzzzzz @nothing-but-brass @katiemrty @zorotime @kahelis @vikispike @haitaniwhor3 @starlightanyaaa
#forgive me if i break you#one piece#zoro roronoa#roronoa zoro#roronoa zoro x reader#zoro x reader#zoro x y/n#zoro roronoa x y/n#zoro roronoa x reader
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